Emotions
by Black Wolf321
Summary: After their last encounter, Sylar and Maya ponder what the future may hold. How do they feel about each other? Will these feelings effect their future? Read to find out.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything associated with the TV show.

A/N: This is just a character exploration to go inside the heads of Sylar and Maya after the finale of Generations. Whether you agree or disagree, just read and review.

**Emotions**

Only hours after Sylar made his dramatic escape from Elle, Mohinder, Molly and Maya were seated around the table at Mohinder's apartment. The doctor was seated next to Molly, whispering nonsense words of comfort into her ear. He told her how the Boogey Man wouldn't get her, that he would see to it that they were safe. Molly barely heard him. She was too busy leaning over a map; pushpin in hand, keeping track of Sylar's every move.

Maya sat across the table from the pair, a full mug of coffee in her hand. She was motionless, but her eyes were blurred with emotion. Thoughts rampaged through her mind, unrestrained. _Gabriel killed me— he killed my brother— I hate him— I loved him and he betrayed my love— He manipulated me into loving him— I want to kill him— But that's wrong. I hate him— I love him still_.

Such thoughts were greatly confusing Maya, but the last one bothered her the most. He had ripped her heart out. Taken advantage of her naïve nature, and her lack of exposure to true evil. He even said he planned on killing her, but in not so many words. When Molly was talking to Mohinder in the cab ride back to the apartment about "the Boogeyman" as she called him, Molly mentioned that Gabriel removed the top of her parents' skulls and took their brains. Maya assumed that was how he must have gained his power. So when he said he would gladly take her ability off her hands, he basically said he'd gladly kill her.

Alejandro had been right not to trust him. Everything Alejandro had ever said about him had been true. If she had listened, Alejandro might still be alive. Gabriel had used her, used them. She hated him for it.

And yet— she couldn't help but feel thankful for some of what Gabriel had done for her, no matter what his motives. He had made her feel like a human for the first time in a long time. He taught her to control her ability. Yes, he abused her power. But he made her feel proud of controlling the ability, and proud of being able to use it when their lives depended on it. Like with border patrol. Alejandro made her feel guilty about it. Gabriel comforted her by telling her it was a necessity. He listened to her, giving her the empathy she needed to emotionally survive, empathy that she could never get from her brother no matter how hard he tried to understand. Alejandro could never have comprehended how overwhelming it is to be responsible for a death. He could never have known how she felt when she accidentally wiped hundreds of lives from the Earth in an instant. Alejandro could never know how much worse it is to kill because you feel you have no choice. Gabriel understood. Those emotions had to be genuine. Although, his version of "having no choice" seemed to be far different from her own . . .

And then there was the death of Gabriel's mother. Maya knew that Gabriel was a master manipulator, but his shaky voice and moist eyes had to be genuine. Perhaps, if truly felt guilty for his mother's death, there was hope for him yet . . .

And when he kissed her— Well. He had manipulated her feelings. She knew that now. But despite this, Maya couldn't forget how alive he made her feel. In his arms, in his kiss, she finally felt wanted, loved and forgiven. Alejandro, she now knew, _had_ forgiven her. Gabriel was the one who made her think that he hated her. But Alejandro definitely didn't want her while she still had her power. He was willing to do anything to help her get rid of it, but Maya had no doubt that he did this out of duty to humanity, as well as to help her. Alejandro had been the sort of person who would never have forgiven himself if he let someone with the power to kill to continue using it, intentionally or not. Even Maya had to admit that she was dangerous, but it was the most wonderful feeling to be accepted as you are despite past sins. Gabriel did this. Alejandro didn't

She loved Gabriel, but he hurt her, and didn't care whether she lived or died. He didn't love her back. If he was at risk of dying because of her, as he was in Dr. Suresh's lab, Maya now knew that he would kill her without a second thought. He had killed many other people heartlessly as well. Her brother . . . Gabriel wouldn't get away with it. Whether she loved him or not, he needed to be stopped. She would use the power he taught her to control. And she would kill him. She could beat any power he may have. He was no longer human and needed to die. Maya remembered Gabriel saying that he wanted to be special. He would probably do anything to reach that goal, even if it included murder. Maya understood this. She had committed murder to get to America, to find a cure. There's a sort of longing and desperation that comes along with a goal that consumes the soul. Any threat to the achievement of that goal has to be dealt with, or you will emotionally perish.

But since Gabriel had murdered so many times, and his goal was unattainable, he had to cut off his emotions to survive. According to doctor Suresh, Sylar had killed many people in quest for power, and had even wanted a list with hundreds of names of people with extraordinary abilities. He planned to take it all. Maya figured the only way he could live with the murder was to make it meaningless. To make the victims inhuman. To rationalize it. Gabriel Grey was nothing but a hollow vessel. He had shred his soul, killed his emotions, to achieve a goal. There is no sin in destroying a hollow shell. Or so she told herself.

Maya had learned murder was wrong. She had trained to be a nun, and needed justification for what she was doing. Better justification than a statement that Gabriel was inhuman. Especially since Gabriel had proved that he had some humanity by looking genuinely sorry about the murder of his mother. He could feel when it came to that, which meant his soul wasn't completely destroyed. As a Christian, it was Maya's duty to kill him to save what soul he may have left. Or so she told herself.

He was so similar to her. He had helped her so much. She loved him. She couldn't help it. A sort of empathy had developed for the man who had killed so much, and forgotten to feel. Maya, looking back, didn't feel sorry for the border patrolmen she had killed. It had been necessary to reach America, and thus find a way to get rid of her powers. She knew that she could become like him, and that made her love him more, the version of her that had gone horribly wrong. She would save what soul he had left. Her love for him wouldn't allow her to let him live, while he further corrupted his soul. She now understands that she must kill him before he loses his ability to feel. Finally, a reason for murder that fit her moral code. If she killed him, she would be doing him a favor. She would be showing him mercy.

Her reason for wanting to kill Gabriel rationalized; Maya slowed her thoughts down, and finally became aware of her surroundings. Molly was looking less frantic. Mohinder was leaning back in his chair, a look of contemplation on his face. Maya had come to a decision, and she had to let them know her plans. Or at least, the plans that concerned the two of them.

"I don't want to be cured," Maya announced. Mohinder leaned forward in his chair. Molly readjusted the pushpin on her map once more before looking up.

Mohinder cleared his throat. "May I ask why?" Maya could tell he was nervous. Her power scared him. She could understand that. She could barely control her power, and if she lost that control, both the doctor and his adopted daughter would be dead. Maya took a deep breath.

"Gabriel cut me deeper than any being has a right to do," she explained. "He isn't human, anymore. He killed my brother," Maya's voice dropped to a hate filled snarl, "He needs to die." Restraining her emotions, which were quickly becoming close to a deadly intensity, Maya couldn't help but feel proud of herself for creating this simplified version. They would never understand the depth of emotions behind her decision.

"Maya, listen to me," Mohinder began frantically, "He could kill you! He would do it without a single emotion, and then he could use your power to take out New York City! He has tried it before! He has more power than you could possibly—"

"I don't care!" Maya cut him off. If she let him continue, she knew her resolve would falter. "He'll just continue hurting people if no one stops him! I'll never forgive myself if I let him live!"

With that, Maya rose for her chair, and rushed toward the door, mentally going over the location of the push pin on the map. She left the apartment without looking back.

* * *

Sylar breathed deeply, trying to contain the excitement of having his powers back. He would have to relearn to use them, but they were all there. And unfortunately, some were triggered by powerful emotions, so he would have to control all feelings of euphoria until he got better control.

But he was powerful. He was back. And there were several powers he couldn't wait to get his hands on. And he would start with Maya's.

Sylar activated his super hearing, knowing that he wouldn't be able to turn it off. That power had been the hardest to control. He needed to relearn_everything_. But he allowed himself to suffer the loud noises because he had to ensure that no one could sneak up on him in the alley. Leaning against the brick wall, Sylar allowed his mind to drift, while still listening for anything out of the ordinary. He imagined himself with his eyes blackened, with dead 'special' people surrounding him. Peter Petrelli was the most vivid in his imaginings. His power was so similar to his own original power. He had to see how that worked.

_I wonder_, Sylar mused, _whether their brain will be in tact after the virus consumes them. I suppose I'll have to use it on some test subject. That will be boring. The insignificant never put up a fight._

First, however, Sylar would have to acquire Maya's power. He could picture her face contorting into absolute hatred. She would most likely try to kill him first. Pity. She was more beautiful when frightened, or looking at him with those adoring puppy eyes . . . Shame he could no longer inspire any feeling in her besides hate. He had enjoyed manipulating her, having complete control over her emotions. He was deeply disappointed when she found out about him murdering her brother. He had hoped to play with her emotions more . . . but it was not to be.

He had been forced to kill her. He had regretted it seconds after he did it. But Sylar knew that she had given him no choice. If she hadn't found out about her brother, he could've let her live longer. But as it was, he perceived her as a threat to his life. Sylar remembered how he had felt, as he watched her die, as he watched the blood pour from the lifeless figure that had once been so beautiful.

He had hated her, for one thing. She forced him to pull the trigger. She made him kill her, and waste her potential. He had grieved over the loss of her power. He remembered being disappointed that she should die so soon, disappointed that he no longer had the chance to toy with her, to make her fall apart. When he saw Mohinder had the healing blood with him, he knew he had to see whether there was some sort of trick. He needed to know whether the injection really contained the blood that could both heal the dead and cure him, or whether the injection was a poison. If it _wa_s the healing blood, he would hate himself for passing up an opportunity to bring Maya back. For one thing, he wanted her power. For another . . . there was something about her that was different from anyone else he had met. He wanted the time to figure out what it was. Then he would kill her of course. And take her power . . .

Sylar allowed himself to fantasize about obtaining that power. He pictured himself freezing Maya before she could use her powers. Her childlike hatred would be forever frozen on her soft face. He would hack her skull, carefully remove her brain, and delight in her delicious power. Oh, how he wanted that power.

But, he then realized, he would dislike destroying such a beautiful soul. She was so easy to manipulate, so trusting, so . . . _adoring_. He had turned her interest in his situation into hope by mentioning that he knew the doctor. He had turned that hope into awe and respect when he refused to turn her in, though he knew she was a murderer. He turned that respect into friendship, gratitude and deep trust with that picnic. And from there, had made her turn to him as her only form of guidance, as her only helper, as her only true friend. He made her dependent on him. He made her believe that he was the only one in the world who truly cared about her. He knew she was beginning to love him, but she wouldn't allow it to manifest. So, he helped her along by appearing wet and shirtless in that doorway.

Sylar smiled at his own genius. Not only was she too distracted to see her dead brother in the room; she had completely fallen for him. Sylar could tell that she felt she needed him, that she _wanted_ him, and she loved him. Love. Sylar had never before influenced that emotion. Maya was the only person who had ever fallen in love with him.

When he was young, he was a loner. No one paid him any attention, and equally, he ignored everyone else. He was always behind a book, trying to achieve the greatness his mother wanted for him. But his studies never brought him pleasure. Only fixing watches did that. He loved to figure out how each individual timepiece worked. Occasionally, he would get bored with figuring out watches. When he did, he would figure out how a certain girl "worked". He would say all the right things, go through all the right motions, and she would be kissing him within minutes. He would search for love, but he never found it. Such girls never fell in love with him as a person; they only gave into a temptation that he carefully provided. Playing with their minds became boring; all were the same faulty creatures.

But Maya had been different. She hadn't fallen in love so much with his words or even his actions, though they had certainly helped. Sylar knew she loved how he could relate to her, and her past. She loved how he could make her feel normal, how he could make her feel human. She loved him for teaching her to control her ability. And all that she loved him for was actually true.

Sylar _could_ relate to her. She reminded him of a version of himself; only she didn't have the ability to figure out how the world worked, and that made her naïve about evil. He had enjoyed making her confident in her ability, and her humanity. It pained him to see those who had power be ashamed of it. Those who were ashamed didn't deserve to have any power. And he had taught her to control her ability, but not completely out of self-interest or to get rid of Alejandro, though both motivations had been there. He had also taught her to control it because she lived in fear of herself and what she could do. Sylar knew what it was to live in fear.

When he was a child, he was in constant fear of being rejected by his mother because he wasn't special enough. When Sylar's father wasn't bringing in enough income, everyone would suffer. Sometimes, when Sylar did something to disappoint her in that time, she would become furious and toss him into the street as punishment. This eased his parents' financial situation. She thought that her son would stay with a friend. But Sylar had no friends. Sylar would be forced to sleep in the street, fearing for his life for several days, constantly visiting his father at work, checking to see if his income had changed for the better. Sylar never hated his mom for her actions because he knew she was right to punish him as she saw fit. He felt he needed to be punished. He needed to be special, and he failed. And on her part, when he came back she always apologized, cried, hugged him, told him he was a good boy, and she just wished that he could be more. He never told her that he lived in the street during these periods of time. She never asked. But he feared her losing hope in him, he feared disappointing her. With experiences like that, he couldn't let Maya live in fear. He knew it could destroy her.

Not only that, but Maya had forced Sylar to experience emotions he hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt for his mother's death, and the joy of being loved. Sylar had never experienced the second emotion before. His mother had only ever loved the man he might become. His father only loved him because he was following in his footsteps. Maya, though he had told a few lies, definitely loved him for him. She even empathized with his committing murder! And, if she hadn't seen him pull a gun on Mohinder, she probably would love him still.

But guilt and love are worthless emotions. They only drag you down. He was the ultimate being. He couldn't allow himself to be held back by anything. He would kill Maya. But not yet. He wanted to play with her mind some more. She was so amusing, and so easy to influence. Forget the pleasure of being loved. It easily compared to the pleasure of being feared. He would make her fear him. Fear is like respect, and respect is a form of love. And better still, fear is easy to sustain. And once he was satisfied with her fear, he would kill her, without a drop of remorse or regret. Besides, he had a larger problem to deal with.

The Company. They had injected him with a virus that insulted him by taking away his powers. Not only that, but he would've died without the cure. Anything that posed a threat to his evolution, that tried to hinder it, needed to be eliminated. And anything that beat him, needed to pay.

The first time the Company had captured him; he beat them by outsmarting them and escaping. This time, they stripped him of all that made him special. They took what he needed to feel confident in himself, and they took what he needed to feel safe. On top of that, they tried to slowly kill him. Well, for that he would take the Company apart until not a single member remained. He would slaughter them all.

Smiling, Sylar slowly rose to his feat, trying to regain control of his hearing. It took him two minutes, but finally the sounds faded to a tolerable level. That was better control than what Dale Smither's accomplished in her lifetime. Feeling proud of himself, Sylar began to outline his plans for the future.

First, he would regain control of his abilities, practicing in empty alleys. Second, he would travel to Odessa, Texas. That's where he would find the Company. He would go into Primitech paper, kill all there, and take what power it had to offer. From there, he would look for information on the Company's work, and where every one of their offices were located. Then, he would stalk Maya. Make it a game of cat and mouse. Slowly make her fear him. She would be hard to break. Sylar imagined her standing her ground as the games began. He would fight her, then, let her think she was winning. He would let her chase him, while in reality he would always be one step ahead. He would toy with her, and again, she wouldn't notice. She would be determined to catch him, determined to do whatever it took to bring him down, never giving up, even when she feared him. Such determination was admirable. He respected her for that.

_Respect is a form of love_, Sylar's thoughts taunted him. _You're weak. You love her back_.

_No_, Sylar decided simply, without a doubt that the answer was the truth_. I don't. I like how she loved me. It was fun, a sense of belonging like I never had. But no one can love a man like me. I don't want them to anymore, and now I know I could never love anyone back. I can see all of their flaws, how they work, and their flaws take away any romantic feelings I may have. Better to have people fear and respect me. And as soon as I acquire enough power, they will. It's only a matter of time._

With all of the disturbing thoughts of love banished from his mind, Sylar set off at a brisk walk. Soon, he would be unstoppable.

* * *

Maya entered the alleyway. But she was too late. All she found there were a few bags of garbage, and dirt. Her heart sank. Sylar must have moved on. But she would find him. She had too. And he had definitely been here.

Sitting by the dumpster was an empty syringe. Traces of red lined the inside. Dr. Suresh had said Sylar took off with the healing blood. Maya was sure that the empty syringe had contained that blood. She had been so close to locating him. She should be able to find him again. It would be easy. As long as she had the right help, she could find him.

Unfortunately, the 'right help' was at Dr. Suresh's apartment. She hoped she could convince him to help her cause, even after she stormed out of his door. He knew Gabriel better than she did. He might be able to help her find him. Molly could only say where Gabriel was, and not predict where he would be next, but still, her ability would help. Together, the three of them would find him, but Maya alone would take him down. He was her fallen Angel. Her first love, her first hate. It was her right to do with him as she saw fit. She would ensure he died— no matter what the cost.

* * *

A/N: Sylar assumes he'll be chasing Maya. He knows she hates him, but he doesn't expect her to come after him so soon . . . I can't wait until the writer's strike ends and the new season is in production. Tell me what you think about this story. Any opinion is welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! When I wrote the first chapter, I was unsure whether I would leave it as a Oneshot, or continue the story. Since you liked it so much, I decided to continue. I already have the plot outlined, I just need to write the chapters. But, I'm still open to any suggestions you may have.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Heroes.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Mohinder sat at his kitchen table, laptop in front of him, a headache threatening to consume his sanity. What a day. First, Sylar calls. Then there's the whole fiasco of dealing with him. _Then, to make matters more complicated, there's a woman in my house who's convinced that she will be the one to take down Sylar! _Mohinder shook his head at this notion. Even with his help, no one person could take down that maniac. Mohinder eyed Maya discreetly out of the corner of his eye. She had fallen asleep on the couch, a look of contentment on her face. Mohinder snorted. He envied her. How could she and Molly find it in them to sleep at a time like this?

Mohinder sighed and sat back in his chair. He had purposefully picked this uncomfortable chair because, unlike them, he couldn't fall asleep yet. He had a call to make. Nikki needed to know he lost the cure. Dreading the outcome, he slowly picked up the wireless phone and punched the number to Nikki's cell phone.

The rings seemed to carry on forever, making Mohinder more nervous by the second. After ten rings, Mohinder decided she wasn't going to pick up. Relieved, he momentarily contemplated not attempting to reach her at all. No, that wouldn't work. She had given him an emergency number incase she wasn't answering her cell phone.

Dialing the second number, Mohinder waited as the phone began to ring. Finally, someone picked up. "Hello?" the young voice cracked. Definitely not Nikki. Her son, Micah?

"Hello," Mohinder said hesitantly, "This is Dr. Mohinder Suresh. May I speak to Nikki Sanders please?" The other end was silent. Mohinder began to feel uncomfortable. "Hello?" he ventured again.

"She's dead," the voice choked out. Mohinder went cold. The room seemed to spin. Questions ran through his mind so rapidly, he could barely keep track of them. Had she died because he didn't get the antidote to her on time? Was it his fault? _Deep breaths_, Mohinder soothed himself.

"How—" Mohinder hesitated, fearing the answer, "How did she die?"

"Fixing my stupid mistake," the voice answered. "Don't call here, doctor. There's nothing you can do. Just— just leave us alone." The line went dead. Mohinder slowly lowered the phone, not believing what he had heard. Nikki was dead—

_BRRRING!_ Mohinder jumped a mile, dropping the phone in shock. Who on Earth was calling? Mohinder quickly pressed the talk button, and glanced again at Maya. Still sleeping. Mohinder slowly brought the phone to his ear, praying it wasn't bad news on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mohinder. It's Matt." The voice was low, and almost sounded . . . sad.

"Matt!" Mohinder rose to his feet quickly. "Are you alright? Where are you?"

"In a hospital. Nathan Petrelli is dead."

Another death?! Mohinder felt dizzy. He slowly crossed the length of his apartment into his bedroom. He shut the door behind him. Mohinder figured that the circumstances of Nathan's death probably wouldn't be for anyone to overhear.

"You still there Mohinder?"

"Yes," Mohinder choked out. "How did he die?"

"Well," Matt began, and Mohinder noticed his tone had changed. It was a lighthearted tone, one Matt used when describing the horrible events of his police work in a story format to Molly. Mohinder knew it was Matt's way of coping with tragic and stressful events. He turned them into adventure stories, making them unreal in the process. Mohinder felt ill. Nathan's death must have been terrible.

"Nathan and I were on a mission," Matt continued in his detached tone. "The Company created a virus, a strain so deadly it could wipe out the population of the world if it got free."

Mohinder froze. "Strain number 138,"

"Yes . . . I think that was it. Well, Mrs. Petrelli informed Nathan and I that this immortal guy named Adam Monroe was hell bent on releasing that virus."

"Immortal?" Mohinder's breath hitched. He recalled Bob telling him about Adam. He's said Adam saw himself as a God. If Adam was immortal, free, and out to destroy the world, how could anyone stop him if he couldn't die?

"Yeah, immortal," Matt continued, oblivious to Mohinder's discomfort. "The guy didn't look a day over thirty. I didn't see him in person, but his picture was young. If you go by Mrs. Petrelli, he's about four hundred years old. That freak heals, apparently. Anyway, Peter nuked the virus, and this teleporting Japanese dude Hiro disappeared with Adam.

"Wait!" Mohinder interrupted. Matt had always been terrible at giving needed information, tending to jump right to the action, and this sudden insertion of characters left Mohinder reeling. Mohinder vaguely recalled Peter mentioning a man named Hiro on the subway. Peter said that Hiro came from the future and that Hiro wanted him to save the cheerleader and save the world. Was the world in danger?

"Where'd Peter come in? And why was Hiro there?" Mohinder almost dreaded the answer.

"Oh," said Matt, obviously not expecting the interruption. "Peter was teamed up with Adam. I was worried we may have to kill Peter, he was so convinced Adam was this hero. And Hiro was there to kill Adam. Something about fixing a past mistake and Adam murdering his father. That answer all of your questions?"

"Yes," answered Mohinder, though in reality, it didn't. Yes, he understood about Peter and Hiro. At least the world wasn't in danger. But what about Adam? How could Hiro kill him? Matt said he wasn't just immortal when it came to time, he could heal too. Was he like Claire? Did that mean Claire would live forever?

"So anyway," Matt sighed, "After nuking the virus, the three of us came to the conclusion that the Company was too dangerous to exist. Nathan wanted to wipe the ground out from under their feet, and do exactly what they feared most. We would reveal to the world that there really is such a thing as super heroes."

Mohinder stiffened. He could only imagine how the Company would react. It couldn't be good. "Did you carry through with it?"

There was silence on the other end. "We tried." The voice was low and depressed. Matt had finally dropped the story telling tone, leaving himself to face the harsh reality of the situation. "It was my job to use my powers to convince the people to listen to Nathan. I succeeded. Nathan was about to tell the world he could fly— but he was shot. Twice." There was a pause. Mohinder let Matt collect his thoughts. Though Mohinder knew the congressman, they weren't close. Matt had spent a lot more time with him. It had to be difficult to watch a friend die.

"I didn't see the assassin," Matt's voice cracked. "And now Nathan's dead. Permanently silenced. The Company must have done it. _Please_ Mohinder," Matt begged, and Mohinder was slightly taken aback by the desperation he now heard.

"I know you believe they help people," Matt said, voice strained, "but if they kill to ensure people with abilities live in fear of what they can do— if the Company won't let people, people like me, find a place in society— the company needs to go down."

"Yes," Mohinder agreed. "I'm beginning to see that. And they've done much more than keep a man silent."

"Like what?"

Mohinder's stomach clenched at the thought of having to explain about Sylar. How the Company must have kept him alive to experiment on him. How because of that, he was alive and dangerous . . .

"I'll tell you later. Look, Matt . . .just come home. It's been stressful here, there's so much going on . . . just get back soon. Please." Mohinder ended the call. He couldn't take it anymore.

Mohinder set the phone aside on the nightstand beside his bed. Stretching, he lay down, fully clothed, to sleep. _If I do anything more today, I'll die of fatigue_, Mohinder's tired thoughts whined. His eyes drooped, his body relaxed, and he was just about to drift off when—

_BRRRING!_ Mohinder jumped out of bed, tripped over his own feet, and fell to the floor. Pain shot through Mohinder's body, and it took all of his self-control not to scream in frustration. _Why can't they let me sleep?_ He raged. Fumbling from his place on the floor, Mohinder reached for the phone on the nightstand. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before answering the phone— he failed.

"What?!" he snapped at whomever was on the other end.

"Who were you talking to?" the soft, but angry voice of Bob snarled. "I've been trying to reach you for the past ten minutes!"

The room was turning red. The nerve of that man! Mohinder opened his mouth to tell Bob exactly what he had been doing, and what he knew of Nathan Petrelli, but thankfully, Bob interrupted.

"Never mind. I know you were in contact with Sylar. Do you have any idea where he might be headed?"

"No! And how did Sylar live anyway?" Mohinder growled, too annoyed to be polite.

"He has every power imaginable. How do you _think_ he lived?" Bob sounded angry, but Mohinder felt an extreme hatred far beyond anything Bob felt. He was lying about Sylar. Only the Company could have injected Sylar with that virus, and as head of the Company, Bob had to know what happened. That did it. The Company needed to fall.

Unaware of Mohinder's changed thoughts, Bob continued, "Just tell me if you think of where he might be headed. Even without his powers, Sylar is dangerous."

Bob didn't know Sylar had powers? That wasn't good. Someone had to stop Sylar before he killed more people, and evil or not, the Company was probably the only organization that could do that. But an image flashed to Mohinder's mind. Sylar's words, the expression on his face when he learned an organization was responsible for the loss of his powers— a plan came to Mohinder's mind.

"Look," Mohinder finally responded, "I'll call you if he contacts me. But for now, let me sleep." He hung up. _Bob will make me regret that later . . ._ Mohinder groaned in exasperation. It was definitely the worst day he had ever had, only topped by the day he learned of his father's murder.

Collapsing upon his bed for a second time, Mohinder's thoughts drifted. Yes, the Company definitely had to fall. If they were assassinating those who spoke of power, they were starting a war. As Mohinder saw it, there were two possible outcomes. The company could be exposed to the world and heroes would be free. Or, the Company could succeed in silencing an evolved variation of human.

Mohinder felt terrible. Why had he not believed Bennet? The company had been using him. They obviously didn't care about helping people, though they did help people occasionally. All they cared about was 'keeping the world safe', and they would do whatever they thought was necessary to do it, including assassinating Nathan Petrelli, bringing back and experimenting on Sylar, and creating deadly viruses. Those three things did not agree with Mohinder's 'moral compass' as Bob called it. He couldn't be a part of them anymore.

Sylar would surely seek revenge. Mohinder could let Sylar destroy the Company for him. Now if only Maya could be convinced to let Sylar live until he had significantly damaged the company. Or, better yet, he could convince her killing Sylar was a suicide mission. Maybe—

Mohinder's tired mind gave out. Mid thought, the doctor slipped into the peaceful world of sleep.

* * *

Sylar was fuming. This had to be the worst day he ever had. Yes, it had been fun reliving the pleasure of having ultimate power. Surprisingly, it had only taken him twenty minutes of practicing before he had the same level of control that he did before. 

But what was the point? This Company had injected him, so it was logical that they thought he was powerless. He couldn't be revealed otherwise through committing murder to get necessities like cars. It was going to be impossible to get out of New York. He had no form of ID, and his true identity of Gabriel Grey was wanted for murder. A cab would only be a temporary solution because they didn't go too far from the vicinity of New York City. Hitching a ride in New York was impossible, because everyone who refused a taxi was assumed to be dirt poor and with a drug problem. If he stole a car, the police would be on his tail within a day. He would have to use force to get them off his back. And once again, he didn't want to leave a trail of carnage. He needed to have the element of surprise when it came to the Company. They were powerful. He needed every advantage he could take.

Because he had decided he needed to keep a low profile, all he could do was telekinetically take cash out of wallets. The credit cards were useless. Every one of them had a note on the back about checking the identity of the cardholder. And, unfortunately, Sylar had never bothered to learn what stealing identities entailed. There had never been a need, because he had always been able to use his powers when things got out of hand. But at least, with the stolen cash, he could get food.

It was late, 11:00 PM, when Sylar decided to satisfy his hunger at a coffee shop before taking a cab at least to the border of New York City. From there, he could probably find someone he could hitchhike with. Few people were in the coffee shop at such an hour, but there was at least one person of interest. A woman, a frail blonde thing and fancifully dressed, was sitting at a small booth, talking to the man across from her. The man looked as though he were contemplating bolting out the door. This in itself was boring, but the conversation caught Sylar's attention. Due to his superior hearing, Sylar was able to easily hear her as she went on in a southern drawl about returning to Kentucky. About how she wasn't expected to arrive for five days, and when she did, she was expected to have a fiancé with her. At that line, the young man freaked, promptly jumped to his feet, and rushed out the door leaving her seated alone at the table. She looked disappointed, but it lasted only a second. Immediately, she was smiling again, and drinking from her Styrofoam coffee cup.

_Perhaps she can be used to my advantage_, Sylar mused. Kentucky. That was in the general direction of Texas. And she said her family wouldn't be expecting her for five days. So, if he killed her, and deposited her in some field, her family wouldn't even know she was missing during that time. They probably wouldn't report her missing until a day later. Only then would police be looking for the car. That would give him six days to travel, undetected. He would probably never get a better opportunity. It was perfect! . . . Except for the traveling partner.

Sylar sauntered forward, putting on all the boyish charm he could, hating himself for having to stoop to such a level. He sat down next to the woman, a forced smile on his face. "Hello. My name is Gabriel Sylar. And I couldn't help but overhear your plight."

* * *

And that conversation was why, hours later, Sylar found himself seated in a tiny Toyota, with an annoying blonde jabbering in his ear. She said her name was Darlene, but Sylar could think of hundreds of much nastier names that would better suit her. 

"Oh, you'll just_adore_ my parents Gabriel," she gushed. "They've always wanted a strong, _capable_ man for their little girl." She winked at him. Sylar felt an overwhelming urge to rip that eye from its socket. When would they reach an unpopulated area? Sylar wasn't sure he could stomach her much longer. He would have to kill her soon, for the sake of his sanity.

They were pulling off the highway. Finally! But no— there were too many residency buildings. Sylar watched as they pulled into a parking lot, next to a shabby building that looked like it could serve any purpose from apartment, to business office. She got out, and Sylar followed. It was then he noticed the sign above the nondescript building. HOLIDAY INN was carved into a poorly lit sign. A hotel?

"I have no money," he snarled. Sylar had learned quickly that it didn't matter what he said to her, or how rudely he said it. She would smile, and laugh a fluttery, infantile laugh, call him 'silly' and completely ignore his fury. And sure enough, the laugh from hell came again. Sylar winced, as it grew particularly shrill.

"Silly!" she finally gasped out. "_I'm_ paying! I'll do anything for a_ cutie_ like you," With that, she turned on her Prada clad heel, and hips swaying, headed towards the hotel entrance. Sylar was in shock. _Did she just call me a CUTIE?!_ Sylar's eyes blazed, fury made his heart rate crescendo, every fiber of his being was burning with the need to kill.

Sylar felt his hands heat to an almost unbearable temperature. Within seconds, he would make her go nuclear, and he would be free of that infernal annoyance— Sylar forced himself to calm down. The heat faded. She entered the hotel, beyond his reach. He wouldn't kill her yet. At a hotel, the murder was sure to be discovered, and he would never get away with the car. He would have to wait. But rest assured— her murder would be one of the most painful, and drawn out he had ever delivered.

Sylar stalked after her, into the hotel lobby.

"There you are!" Darlene cheered, grabbing him around the middle. Once again, Sylar felt the fury consume him. _Calm_, he coaxed himself, _stay calm_.

"I got us a room!" Darlene squealed. "Isn't this exciting?" Much to his displeasure, Sylar found himself being dragged by the hand through the hotel. He had made it clear that he hated her throughout the car trip, made it clear that he was only traveling with her to get closer to Texas. Unfortunately, he had promised to pretend to be her fiancé for a day to make her parents happy. He had said it to ensure his stay in the car. He didn't expect her to take it as if they were literally engaged. Even _he_ was incapable of figuring out how delusional minds worked.

"Room 432! The numbers count backwards! See!" Sylar winced as she laughed as though she had made the funniest joke in the world. She inserted the card key, and the light by the handle changed from red to green. She pushed the door open.

"Ta daa!" she squealed. Sylar took in the room. One bed with flower printed covers, a small desk, a door leading to a cramped bathroom, and a chair. Ignoring Darlene's ranting about how much fun they would have in the following days, Sylar approached the chair, kicked off his shoes, and sat down, completely worn out.

He closed his eyes. Finally, he could sleep.

"Silly! What are you doing?" Or not. Darlene was staring at him, hands on her hips. Sylar pictured freezing those hands, and breaking off every curled finger. Oh yes. Darlene would die a slow death.

"What?" Sylar snarled, patience thinning. _It's for the car. Before, it worked to kill those you hitchhiked with. You didn't have to worry about hiding your powers. But you need every advantage you can get if you plan on infiltrating Primitech. They beat you before. The only way you'll ever get in is if you have the element of surprise on your side_, Sylar lectured himself.

Darlene obviously had found the word 'what' hilarious, because she hadn't stopped laughing her annoying, unintelligent laugh since he had uttered the word. Finally, she calmed down enough to answer him. "Silly! You're sharing the bed with me of course."

_WHAT?! That's IT!_ Sylar let out a feral growl, rose to his feet, and said in the most threatening manner he had ever used in his life, "Listen here, and listen closely. I—do—_not_—love—you. It's no wonder you've never pinned a boyfriend, you're so self absorbed that no man could ever feel anything for you but _hate_." Sylar let his voice drop several octaves on the last word, and the way he said it would have dissuaded anyone from pursuing him as a love interest. Except her. She was staring at him with . . . _admiration_?! It wasn't working. Sylar switched tactics.

"Besides," he growled. "If I were to have anyone, she would have talent, intelligence, compassion, she would be accepting, she'd listen to what I have to say, and wouldn't _push_ _me_ into anything I didn't want to do. You are _none_, NONE of those things."

_But Maya is_. With a blink of an eye, Sylar shoved the offending thought to the back of his mind. No distractions. He pulled his face into his most hostile 'I hate you' expression, which wasn't hard to do. Any normal female would have fled the room in tears after such a blunt rejection. But not Darlene. She was laughing her baby laugh once more.

"Silly! I _know_ you love me. It's only a matter of time and you _will_ be mine." She winked. Sylar blinked in shock. She laughed once more, and with much more swaying of the hips than was necessary for walking, she strolled into the bathroom, and shut the door with a soft click.

Sylar stared straight ahead, unmoving. That infernal . . . WOMAN! Death was too good for her. She needed to suffer eternal torment! _Tomorrow_, he calmed himself, _you only have to put up with her until tomorrow. Just drive the car yourself, and _ensure_ that there's a good area to dump her mutilated corpse_.

He allowed himself to fall into the chair, mind spinning. _Why does revenge have to be so degrading?_ He wondered, miserably. _What's really happening here? Am I on the path to revenge against the Company, or is the world taking revenge against me?_

Sylar groaned. No use pondering his fate. Just take it like a man. Tomorrow. Revenge on Darlene. Get to Company. Surprise attack. Take it out. Find the leader. Take him out. Destroy everything Company related. Find Maya. Play with her mind. Have fun. Take power.

Sylar smirked slightly at his makeshift to-do list. Eventually he would have what he wanted. To be special and all-powerful. _But is that _really_ what you want? _The treacherous thought drifted through Sylar's tired mind._ Do you _really_ want to just play with Maya for a short period of time? Why not have her forever? You remember how happy she made you feel. It will only take a few sacrifices—_

Sylar cut off that track of thinking. It was illogical. _I only think I love her because I pretended to do so, _Sylar told himself._ The emotion will fade. I'll only be happy with power. I don't need anything else._

Assuming the deranged thoughts of love were a result of his lack of sleep, Sylar closed his eyes once more. And this time, with no interruptions, Sylar easily drifted into sleep.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about all of the information in the first half. Hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. And the next chapter may take me awhile, since it's around Christmas. But it will get written, I promise! Next chapter: Peter is introduced to the plot, and Mohinder tries to convince Maya that revenge on Sylar isn't a good idea. Also, the fate of Darlene! Please read and review! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: First of all, I would like to thank all of you who reviewed or favorited my story. It means a lot to me. And now, Chapter 3! I hope it was worth the wait.

**Chapter 3**

"I'm sorry sir. Your brother didn't make it. We did everything we could." That was what the doctor had said. And five hours later, even after Peter had returned from the hospital to his mother's home, the same words were still running through his mind, like a never-ending parade. Over and over. _Your brother didn't make it. We did everything we could. I'm sorry sir. Your brother didn't make it. Your brother didn't make it. Your brother didn't—_

"Snap out of it Peter!" Blinking dizzily, Peter turned to look at his mother. Her eyes were bloodshot, her makeup smudged.

"Don't you think I would rather mope around all day, and mourn too? Well, I can't. You can't. Your brother was murdered," she said, uttering each word deliberately, as though trying to make sure it would penetrate Peter's mind. "And I know who's behind it."

Peter stared blankly, eyes unseeing. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, each time, making no sound. Finally, he croaked, "W-what?"

Mrs. Petrelli sighed. Gently grabbing Peter by the shoulders, she maneuvered him into the sitting room. She directed him to the couch, and had him take a seat. Carefully, she sat beside him. Nothing was said for several seconds. Then, hesitantly, Mrs. Petrelli began.

"Nathan was assassinated by a man who goes by the name of Ralph Longwell. Superior vision. He sees the world as if in slow motion. The company uses him for assassinations of people whose deaths will be public. With Ralph, it looks like a . . . well . . . _normal_ assassination, with no unexplained powers involved. But the assassin himself is not the point."

Peter was slowly coming to, and needless to say, he didn't like what he was hearing. And his mother's aloof, uncaring voice wasn't helping matters. She knew the assassin? Was she in on it? Did she know it was going to happen? Could she have prevented it?

"The Company has always been in agreement that the world isn't ready to know about people like you Peter. And, when we first began, we agreed to take any and all measures to ensure the safety of our people, to do anything to keep the knowledge of what we can do out of the public eye. Since we agreed to keep silent, we had to monitor our population.

"Those with dangerous powers were recruited if they had good control. Those with dangerous powers who didn't like our cause were terminated. We invited normal people into the loop. We created a tracking system to keep an eye on people with power who posed no threat. Twice, we even had to break one of our own out of the FBI."

Mrs. Petrelli smiled sadly at the memory. "We knew the world would never accept us. We needed complete control; we needed to change the world. The Company began projects, to better the world. And yes Peter. That did include planning to destroy part of New York to unite our nation. But you see, we could only do the things we did because the government and general population knew nothing about us. If they did, we would be used for wars, different countries would compete to find the best super powered beings. Armies would grow more powerful. The world would panic, seeing different nations grow at inexplicably fast rates. People would worry what super weapon could be created from such people, and which country would be the first to create it. People would panic, and we would have war. Possibly, none of that would happen, and instead heroes would go to war with the government. Or, governments could go to war over how people with special abilities are treated. However you look at it, war is eminent. And Nathan's death was necessary to stop that war."

Mrs. Petrelli's voice was cold, matter-of-fact. Peter was flabbergasted. How long had she spent thinking about this? And how _dare_ she say Nathan's death was necessary?

"The Company understood that there would be a point in time when people can't be silenced by any other means besides death, imprisonment and recruitment. By assassinating Nathan, a different sort of war has already begun. A silent war. The Company against the empowered population. The Company has decided that people with talent can no longer be trusted. There will be many reported kidnappings and unexplained deaths in the news, and finally, a race will be silenced, and thus saved. This is the Company's view. They figure that this way, they are helping the general population as well as the advanced human race.

"They are unstoppable. Stopping them would be like trying to stop twelve of you, Peter, if you had every power, complete control, and a desire to do anything to get what you want.

"Now is the time, Peter, to decide. You can die trying to take down the Company alone. You can get a small chance of taking down the Company by building an army, but you'll most likely die. Or, you can join the Company's forces, and live."

Mrs. Petrelli rose to her feat. Peter stared blankly after her, watching her go, his mind still recovering from the shock of what he heard. Just before she turned the corner he called out. "Wait!"

She paused, and turned. "Yes, Peter?"

"Which side are you on?"

She smiled, a smile that clearly portrayed that she thought Peter was being naïve. "The winning side, of course."

* * *

Claire sat on the edge of her bed, fists clenched in a silent fury. First, she saw her dad get shot. She was given his ashes to spread. Then, she got him back alive, but she wasn't allowed to see him. Then, there was the fact that the very Company that had him shot was blackmailing her into silence with her father's life. Claire wanted to expose the Company, to save other people from going through what she went through. But her dad's life came before the lives of others, as selfish as that may seem. She would do anything to keep him alive.

Suddenly, the beginning of _Summon the Heroes_ began to play. Claire dug through her purse to find her cell phone. That was the tone she had assigned to Nathan. Her biological father. She opened the cell phone.

"Claire?" The voice wasn't Nathan's.

"Peter?" Claire asked in shock.

"Thank God!" The voice answered. "It took me forever to find this number, I've had to call . . . so many people."

"Peter, what is all of this about?" Claire was concerned. Peter was beating around the bush, as it were. He was always one to get straight to the point. The line was silent for a few seconds. Then—

"Nathan is dead." Silence.

"What?" Disbelief. Shock. _No_, Claire thought. _He didn't say that._

"I'm sorry Claire. Look, I can't talk right now, I've told so many people today—" the voice wavered. There was staggered breathing on the other end, before the weak continuation. "Look. I know it hurts. If you need someone to talk to, I'll be here. But not tonight. I—I can't deal with it anymore today. I'll breakdown, and there's no comfort in that. But— you can reach me on Nathan's cell. Tomorrow. Goodbye Clai—"

"WAIT!" Claire quickly interrupted. "I have to know— how did he die?" No answer. Did he hang up?

"Peter?" There was a brief pause.

"He was shot— by an assassin of an organization called the Company. Just—just turn on the news if you want to know more. Goodbye Claire."

There was a click, and the line was silent. Claire slowly closed her phone, and placed it back inside her purse. The Company. They had to ruin everything.

Tears of anger and rage poured down Claire's cheeks. She grit her teeth and choked back a sob. Her life was being destroyed. Completely trashed by an organization. And there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Sylar was extremely content, happily noting the lack of Darlene's voice. He had spent exactly fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds killing Darlene, and another two minutes and three seconds mutilating her corpse and destroying evidence.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince her he should drive. He had exited the highway into the endless farm roads, roads filled with nothing but fields of corn, on the pretense of knowing a romantic spot where they could get to know each other. From there, he had used his powers.

First, he had telekinetically yanked her from the car, and tossed her to the ground on the dirt road. He had frozen and broken her fingers, delighting in her screams. He inflicted small cuts using telekinesis, and burned her delicate skin with radiation. He melted her fancy Prada shoes using Zane's power, he scorched her retinas, blinding her, and had removed her eyelids, ensuring that she could never wink at him again. He had thrown her to the ground using telekinesis, making sure she hit at precise angles to break her pelvis, and thus damaging the hips she so loved to seductively sway.

Every injury he inflicted was symbolic of some slight she had done to him. He always carefully backed off right when he sensed she would pass out. When necessary, he used his ice powers to numb the pain that would cause her to lose consciousness, for there was no fun in destroying an unconscious body. As he amplified his voice to such a level that it caused her to nearly go deaf, he happily remembered all of the nagging she had done, and how it had been painful to hear. She now knew that pain.

Unfortunately, all good things had to end, and when he delivered a particularly harsh blow of telekinesis to her ribs (remembering the bone crushing and unwanted hug she had given him inside the hotel) a rib punctured her heart. She died within seconds. Momentarily, Sylar missed her anguished screams. But, slowly, he smiled slightly, realizing he had both mentally and physically broken her heart. She had deserved such anguish. Any human as nasty as her deserved all that he had done to her and more.

With that thought, he froze her body completely, then raised it a good twenty feet into the air. He let it go, aiding its natural fall with his telekinetic abilities, and he smiled as the frozen corpse broke into thousands of tiny pieces. A good minute was spent moving all of the frozen shards into the corn crops, and blowing the blood stained dust away. He then examined himself, ensuring he hadn't gotten any blood on himself. He hadn't. When Sylar was satisfied that there was no evidence that anything at all had occurred on the deserted spot, he returned to the car. Finally, he was free to travel on his own.

He got behind the wheel, relishing the empty feel the car now possessed. Sylar did a complete u-turn, and headed back toward the highway. He began to hum a tune, finally content with how things were going. _Company, look out_. He thought happily. _You have no idea who you're dealing with_.

* * *

Ralph Longwell had been given another assignment. There was a schoolboy, given the code name Fox, who had the power of persuasion. The codenames were given to make the elimination easier. And Fox was particularly dangerous. If Fox ever decided to tell the world about his power, all he'd have to do is order the world to believe in his ability, and they would. Instant problem. Because of his power, he would also be hard for the Company to control. They couldn't always have the Haitian monitor him. And in times like these, it wasn't a good idea to trust anyone who could order the Company to disassemble itself, and have everyone follow that command without question. The boy needed to go down.

Ralph sat shotgun in the stolen car, he and the driver dressed in outfits one would expect to see on a rebellious teens, save the fact that they were both wearing gloves. Ralph carried a hunting riffle of the sort any teen with a relative that hunts could get his hands on. This particular riffle was registered to a man whose son, Fred, already had a long juvenile record. The idea was to use this particular gun, because it would be assumed Fred had used it, fingerprints would reveal only Fred and his father had touched it, and the evidence would give a believable culprit for the school drive by shooting. Fred had skipped this school day, so there would be no evidence that would clear his name. Ralph smiled. This would be easy.

Students were leaving the high school. And, there, was the boy he was looking for. Ralph uttered a single word. "Drive." Suddenly, the car was speeding by. Ralph's eyes were able to process information a lot faster than most, so what would look to most people like students blurred by speed, were crystal clear in Ralph's eye. However, being able to shoot targets accurately at high speed was a learned skill, and just because you good see a target and easily predict its movement far before it moved, didn't mean that you could accurately shoot it. But Ralph had years of practice under his belt, and he was able to fire the first round directly into the Fox's heart. The boy crumpled. Ralph fired off two more shots, striking one girl in the arm, and grazing a boy's ear with the final bullet. It had to look like a genuine shooting. Ralph's car sped away, leaving the screaming children behind.

"Did you get Fox?" His companion asked.

"Of course, Joseph," Ralph said softly, in his cold voice. "The child will be dead within the minute."

The driver, whose name was apparently Joseph, let out a throaty chuckle. "After we ditch this car, we have to bag this girl named Joanne Moore. A human lie detector, except one hundred percent accurate. It's like she sees into the soul. Hardly dangerous, no need for a gun or super vision. Can I have the honors of taking her in? I haven't gotten to use my powers in, like, forever."

Ralph rolled his eyes. "As long as you keep your super strength in check, and don't hurt her too much. We want her alive, and trusting of the Company, remember?"

"I remember," Joseph replied. The two men didn't say much else. They had four more people to take in, and one more code name to kill before the day was out. All over the country, similar teams would be capturing, killing, and recruiting just as Joseph and Ralph were. The Company would ensure the silence of the advanced race. They would ensure peace.

* * *

Mohinder sat at his breakfast table, trying to figure out how to best tell Maya not to go after Sylar. Maya was badgering him with question after question, and Mohinder was too tired to answer. Molly was watching TV, happy not to be involved in the conversation.

"You're not listening to me," Maya said, frustrated.

Mohinbder let out a soft sigh, and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry," he spoke slowly, as if each word was an effort. "I didn't get enough sleep last night. Can you repeat the question?"

Maya paused, finally taking in the doctor's appearance. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his hair was untamed, sticking up at every possible angle. He was wearing slippers, but they were on the wrong feet, and his shoulders were hunched. In short, he looked exhausted. _Perhaps I should ask about Gabriel later_, she considered. But the thought was quickly rejected. _No. Alive, he'll only further damage his soul with murder. I can't let him do that. Who knows what he could be doing at this very instant . . ._

"Where is Gabriel Grey headed?" she spoke slowly, making sure Mohinder could comprehend each word. After all, it didn't sound like English was his first language, and if he was tired, it would make it harder for him to translate. Maya could understand that.

Mohinder paused. He recognized a chance to tell May about the Company, and he decided to take it.

"First of all, call him Sylar. That's the name he chose when he became a serial killer, that name will dehumanize him, and make it easier to take action against him when the time comes. Now, to answer your question . . . The reason Sylar lost his powers was due to the Shanti virus. You understand this, correct?"

Maya nodded.

"Well, the virus was created by the organization I work for. They call themselves the Company. Recently, it has become apparent that the Company is doing many terrible things, for what they think is the greater good. They saved Sylar's life, and then experimented on him with the virus. They killed a man because he was about to reveal to the world that people with special power exist, and that he was one of them. They made another virus that could wipe out the entire human race."

Mohinder paused, and Maya took the time to think. Why was the doctor telling her this? Yes, it was horrible, but what could they do about it? What did it have to do with Gabriel? Or was it Sylar? No. Gabriel was the man she loved and hated. She had no connection to the name Sylar, and calling the man she knew by a completely different name bothered her. Even if they were one in the same, she had grown to hate and love Gabriel. What was Sylar? A made up persona with no soul. But Gabriel had a soul. She had seen it. It was that soul she would save from further corruption. She had to kill him. What did this so called Company have to do with that quest?

"I have turned against the Company," Mohinder continued matter-of-factly. "I plan to work against them as a spy. I already have a position, and they seem to trust me, despite a lot of evidence that I shouldn't be trusted. But I'm one man. I can't take them down alone."

Mohinder took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Sylar is the sort of man who will want revenge after being humiliated by the Company. And I believe that he is the only person who has the slightest chance of taking this corrupt organization down. So, if you would please not go after him— and let him live, at least until he has dealt the Company sufficient damage— I would appreciate it."

The doctor stared at Maya uncomfortably. Maya couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Are you suggesting that we let Gabriel, a murderer, _live_? That we let him kill off members of this—this— Company? Is that what you're asking Doctor Suresh? Because even if this Company is doing bad things, do all the people who work for them deserve to die?" Maya sounded furious. "You said you worked for them doctor. You said you realize now that they're doing bad things. What if other people don't realize? What if they're innocent of the Company's crimes? You want to _let_ Gabriel kill them?"

Mohinder sighed, and massaged his temples. He looked Maya in the eye. "The Company needs to be taken down at all costs, no matter what the damage." He said with conviction. "I don't like it either Maya. But I do know that the Company can do a lot more damage than Sylar ever could. They have members in every city. If they captured you, there's no telling what they'd do to you. They know about people like you Maya, they know about people with abilities. And right now, it seems like they'll do absolutely anything to keep people like you and Molly quiet. I'm beginning to think that they would even murder Molly if they thought it was for the greater good."

Maya was momentarily taken aback. She remembered promising herself to take Gabriel down no matter what the cost. Take him down for the greater good. The Company was hurting people with abilities, people like her, for the greater good. They would do it, ignoring the value of human life. Mohinder wanted to take down the Company no matter what the cost. For the greater good.

_But which is the greater good?_ Maya wondered. Take down Gabriel, save the members of the Company, and save Gabriel's future victims. Let Gabriel live, let members of the Company die, but save hundreds of people with special abilities from certain death. And did the Company have the right idea? _Was_ taking down people with abilities for the greater good? Did they have the right idea in killing dangerous people like herself?

It didn't matter. Maya had made a promise to herself. Kill Gabriel. She couldn't let anything stand in her way. Praying she had made the right decision, she asked Mohinder, "Dr. Sursesh, where, specifically, do you think Gabriel is headed?"

Mohinder looked disappointed. His tired face seemed to age before Maya's eyes. He figured he couldn't stop her.

"You are stubborn aren't you?" He sighed. "At least, call him Sylar. It will make your job easier. And call me Mohinder. Doctor Suresh was my father." Mohinder was saddened by Maya's determination. Why did she have to focus that determination on killing Sylar, when it would be so helpful to let him live, for just a while longer? It was a shame, but there was nothing he could do about it. She would only run into trouble if he didn't help her, and who knew what she would do when her cause seemed unattainable or threatened. "Sylar's probably heading for the Company base in Odessa, Texas. A place called Primitech Paper. His Company file states that he was held there for a short time before he escaped. To my knowledge, that's the only Company location he knows of."

Maya nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you Mohinder."

Mohinder gazed at her sadly. "It's a suicide mission. He can easily kill you. And remember, the Company will still be out there, doing unspeakable things with no one to stop it. But I have to face the facts." Mohinder shrugged. "I can't convince you to do anything you don't want to do. I can see you are stubborn, you'd have to be stubborn to be so determined to chase a psychopath. And, I know you can easily kill me if I tried to keep you here."

"I would never do that," Maya said softly. She crossed the room to where Molly was watching TV.

"Molly?" she asked. Molly turned away from the screen to look at Maya.

"Can you tell me where Gabriel is now? Just which United State he's in will work."

Molly stared blankly, startled at being interrupted while watching TV, before she closed her eyes and concentrated. She shuddered as she focused. "He's— in West Virginia, near Kentucky."

Maya looked satisfied, and was already planning how to get to Texas faster when Molly continued.

"Do you want to know more?" Molly asked. Her eyes were still closed, and she was smiling. "Yesterday, I wanted to know more than just where the Boogeyman was. I can see them now, the people who I find. It's easy. You just have to let your mind get pulled to them, something the Nightmare Man made me afraid of." Molly smiled, ecstatic.

Mohinder was unsure what to think. On one hand, he didn't want Molly to feel the need to expand on her powers. On the other, getting that much control was truly an impressive achievement.

"Sylar is driving a car," Molly stated. "There's a map in the passenger seat . . . I think it's a map of the US. It has a red line marking the roads . . . He's smiling."

Molly opened her eyes, a smug expression on her face. "Aren't you proud of me?" she asked Mohinder.

"I've always been proud," Mohinder smiled. "But do you know what would make me prouder? If you ate your breakfast like a good little girl." Molly rolled her eyes, got up, and hugged Mohinder on the way to the breakfast table.

Mohinder turned to Maya. "You should go." She nodded. But before she could thank Mohinder for his hospitality, there was a knock on the door.

"Who on earth—" Mohinder began, but he didn't get to finish. Molly had opened the door, and two men quickly entered the room, slamming the door behind them.

One was tall and wiry, with pale white skin, beady brown eyes, and a full beard. The other was a black man with bulging muscles. He looked as if he could break Mohinder in half simply by touching him.

Molly screamed in fright at the unexpected entrance, and the muscle man quickly advanced towards her, and placed his hand roughly over her mouth.

"Hey!" Mohinder yelled out. Without thinking, he rushed the man who dared hold Molly captive— only to be clubbed over the head with one enormous fist. Mohinder crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Tears filled Molly's eyes, and she began to struggle. Her captor simply scooped her into his arms and held her flailing form, not letting her go.

Maya yelled out, and was quickly seized by the other man. She began to struggle.

"There's no need for this," the man hissed. "Do you have a power?"

A light turned on in Maya's brain. That was it! She concentrated, and her eyes began to blacken. Her captor let go immediately. Maya triumphantly turned around, only to find the man had completely vanished. All she saw was a black puddle of water. Molly and the muscle man had fallen to the floor, their eyes blackening. Mohinder's eyes were closed, but she was sure he was being affected as well. But where was the other man?

And then, the puddle on the floor began to shift. Much to her surprise, Maya found herself face to face with the pale man once again. His eyes were clear. A black puddle of sludge remained on the floor.

Maya halted her power. She was relieved to see Molly get to her feat. That could have been disastrous. What had she been thinking?

"How— how did you do that?"

The pale man grinned. "Water," he said smugly, with a slight growl, "Can be filtered. I am one with water."

Maya felt weak. Molly wasn't screaming, and therefore, the muscle man had released her from the chokehold.

"I am going to take you to the Company. They will help you control that power of yours. And, if you behave, you will eventually be released. Now. Are you going to come quietly, or do I have to drug you?" Water-boy asked.

"We'll come quietly," Maya said, her eyes boring into Molly's, hoping Molly would understand that she was to be quiet as well. Molly nodded.

"Well," Water-boy said with a grin. "Now we're getting somewhere."

* * *

Next chapter: Maya is introduced to the Company, and we learn more about the evil organization. Also, Hiro gets dragged into the future by himself, and is introduced to the many possibilities of time travel.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I loved writing this chapter, and I hope you have as good a time reading it as I did writing it. Now, for Chapter 4!

**Chapter 4**

White. Everything was white. Maya took slow, deep breaths, trying to remain calm. She and Molly were in a small room, seated next to each other at an equally small table, with four tiny chairs. All the walls were a pristine white, and there was no sound besides the hum of the cooling system.

_So this is the Company_. Maya thought bitterly. _Some hospitality they have._ She glanced around the room. It felt too clean, too white, too . . . unnatural. And the door . . . the door was locked, and made of huge foreboding metal. And what do you know? The door was painted white.

_Click!_ Maya started. Molly let out a yelp of surprise. The door was opening. Maya expected to see someone terrifying and superhuman walk through the doorway. But she was disappointed. The man who entered the room was nothing short of boring. He wore a business suit, had a neutral expression, had a balding head, and had a pair of black-rimmed glasses seated on the bridge of his nose.

"Good morning," the man said in a voice just as boring as his appearance. "My name is Bob. And I run this company."

Bob took a seat at one of the tiny chairs across from the pair. He leaned forward slightly, and looked first at Molly, then at Maya. Maya shivered. There was something strange in the man's gaze.

"Don't bother trying to use your power." He smirked slightly. "This room neutralizes your abilities. But," he said, turning to Maya, "I'm ashamed to say, I haven't the faintest idea what power you possess. My men weren't very good at describing it. Care to elaborate?"

Maya hesitated, wondering what to say. _The truth_, she decided. _He already knows that I have an ability. There's no point in lying_.

"I . . ." She began, trying to think how best to word it. "I contain a sickness. And, it comes out of me, and poisons everyone . . . it kills them, if I don't control it quickly. My brother used to help me but—" Maya fought the depression and anger that suddenly consumed her at the thought of her brother. Her resolve to kill the man she called Gabriel strengthened under the emotions. No one had the right to make her feel such grief.

Getting her feelings under control, Maya continued her explanation. "My brother is dead. I can get my ability under control myself now, but . . . I still have little control over when it's activated. I mean, I can do it on purpose, but . . . I do it on accident as well."

Bob stared on, expression unchanging. He showed no fear or wonder at this revelation. It was almost as if Maya hadn't spoken at all.

"It is unfortunate," Bob said to Maya, "that you have little control over your ability. But here, at the Company, we only want to help. I know who the two of you are. Molly Walker, orphaned around a year earlier by a man called Sylar. And you're Maya Herrera, wanted for murder, _and_" Bob gave a dramatic pause, "you're an illegal immigrant."

Maya blinked. Bob smirked. "Now, we both know the U.S. government would love to deport you. But, I would be happy to give you a new identity, if you'll do something for me."

Bob fell silent. Molly turned to look at Bob and Maya in turn, clearly confused as to what Bob was planning.

To Maya, it was obvious the man was blackmailing her. And she had to stay in America if she were to have a chance of killing Gabriel. She couldn't risk getting deported until _after_ his death. So, unfortunately, she would definitely have to consider doing whatever it was the strange man wanted.

"And, what would you have me do?" Maya asked hesitantly.

Bob smiled in a satisfied way. "Here at the Company, we work hard to keep people like you safe. But, radicals are emerging, and they threaten the very livelihood of those we try to protect. These radicals would reveal to the world that there is an advanced race of super powered humans in existence. That's us. The world would hate us. We would be exiled, imprisoned— there would be war."

Bob leaned back in his chair. "I would like you to help me round up these dangerous radicals. We would teach you to control your ability, and then you would be sent out, and you would help eliminate the threat to our race. And Miss Walker," Bob said, addressing Molly for the first time. "We would love it if you would help us locate some of our more dangerous enemies. You would be saving a lot of lives if you did."

Molly was the first to respond. "I'm sorry sir," she said, with uncharacteristic coldness, "I know I've worked with you before, to help you find people. I know that I stayed in your hospitals when the Nightmare Man controlled my mind. But I don't obey anyone who kidnaps me, or knocks out my da. . . Mohinder. And I don't work for anyone who_eliminates_ people like me, who are just doing what they think is right."

She glared defiantly at Bob. Bob stared back, without emotion. To Maya, the decision was clear. Despite the threat of deportation, she would have to turn down his offer. She would never 'eliminate the threat'. The only person she could ever live with murdering was Gabriel. She could not work with this man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bob," Maya said softly. "But I do not kill on anyone's orders."

"That is unfortunate," Bob said, and for the first time, his neutral expression changed. He looked vaguely disappointed. "At the very least, do you agree to keep quiet about our kind?"

Molly snorted, cutting off Maya's response. "I'm not stupid. I know you'll _eliminate_ me if I talk. So I'll be silent."

Bob seemed satisfied. He turned to Maya. "Miss Herrera?"

"I have no reason to tell the world about my ability. I'll not say anything."

Bob nodded. "Usually, I wouldn't let either of you go. Those who don't work directly for me are a threat. But, since you're both staying with Dr. Suresh, and he's a trusted employee, I'll release you. However, if you leave his residence for more than two days, I _will_ send someone to recapture you, or eliminate you, if you resist."

Bob said this simply, and emotionlessly. He stood up. Maya and Molly stared at him. Molly looked angry, but the emotions Maya felt couldn't be expressed in words_. He just promised to kill me if I leave Mohinder!_ Maya raged. _How am I going to go after Gabriel now?_

"Oh," Bob stated suddenly. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit, removed a card, and handed it to Maya. "That's the Company number," he explained. "If you want your ability under control with pills, or want to learn to control it, call us. We will help. And, be careful. Illegal immigrants aren't accepted in New York. Now, I'm not a tattletale, but it's a shame you won't work for us. We could give you an identity, and ensure that nothing happens. But now," Bob stated, heading toward the door, "I will leave you here until I finish explaining the situation to Dr. Suresh. He will come for you shortly." With that, Bob left, once again leaving the pair locked in the room.

* * *

"How dare you!" Mohinder raged at Bob. "Your thugs _hurt_ Molly! And knocked me out!"

Bob gazed calmly at the furious man. Mohinder, after all, wasn't very threatening. Especially not when his head was bloody, his nose broken, and when he was swaying on his feet.

"Sorry about forgetting to mention to my men that you were an employee. But, being sorry doesn't change the fact that you suffered a concussion, and that headache seems to be affecting your balance. Sit down."

Mohinder collapsed resentfully into the chair in front of Bob's desk. Bob was already seated. "I know I have a concussion," Mohinder snarled weakly. "Unconsciousness after receiving injury, large lump on head, blurred vision, and extreme headache. I may not be a medical doctor, but I do know the symptoms for something as simple as a concussion."

"I was not trying to insult your intelligence, doctor," Bob stated calmly. "I was merely trying to prevent you from hurting yourself. And I need to update you on the Company activities."

Mohinder glanced at Bob curiously. Was he about to hear the reason they let Sylar live? The reason why they killed Nathan Petrelli?

"As you may be aware," Bob began, "There have been recent attempts to reveal the existence of the advanced human race. And I think you'll agree, there would be disastrous consequences if the world were to discover that true super powered beings walked among them. So, the Company has been working to contain this problem.

"That's why we captured Miss Walker and Miss Herrera. We needed to see whether they would threaten our future. If those we capture agree to work for us, and we are positive they'll keep their word, we'll let them go. If they won't work for us, we'll lock them away until they do agree. Those who are too dangerous, and can't be trusted locked away or otherwise, are eliminated."

Mohinder tried to keep his face devoid of emotion. If he wanted to continue working for the Company as a spy, it would have to appear as if he agreed with their methods and ideas. "I think I understand," he stated slowly. But Bob knew he had a 'strong moral compass'. He couldn't completely agree. "It would be bad if the world knew about them. But is elimination _really_ necessary?"

"If we caught Sylar, would you ask me the same question?" Bob asked. Mohinder grit his teeth. They _had_ caught Sylar. And they certainly didn't eliminate him. In fact, they did the opposite. They brought him back from certain death.

"You're right." Mohinder answered Bob coldly. "I wouldn't hesitate to kill where Sylar is concerned."

Bob smiled. "As I was saying, we usually keep those who won't work for us locked away. Neither Miss Herrera nor Miss Walker will work for the Company. We're willing to make an exception in their case. As long as they live with you, and you ensure they don't threaten the Company's existence, we'll let them go. Do you agree to these terms?"

Mohinder nodded, but immediately regretted it. The whole world spun in protest to his movement. "Of course. I'll keep you posted on their behavior."

"I knew you'd see it my way," Bob grinned, satisfied. "Oh, and can you convince Molly Walker to find Sylar? We need him captured. Even without powers, he's an experienced murderer. The Company would like to contain him before he causes further damage."

_Why capture him? To continue your experiments?_ Mohinder pushed these thoughts aside and did some quick thinking, which was no easy feat with a headache like his. "I'm sorry Bob," Mohinder stated. "But Molly has refused to locate anyone since the Nightmare Man incident. If I try to force her into anything, she will resent me, and be more strongly devoted to abandoning her power, and therefore, you would lose her ability completely. She may come to use it in time, but I don't want to lose the trust and love there is between us. You can't make me hurt her."

Bob sighed. "I suppose I can't. You're a strange one doctor. But you get the job done, despite your stubbornness to do anything against your morals. But remember. Any news on Sylar— inform me."

Mohinder reminded himself not to nod. "I'll be sure to do that."

Bob motioned for Mohinder to stand. The pair got to their feet.

"And now, Doctor Suresh, I will get one of my men to drive you, Miss Walker and Miss Herrera, home. I don't trust you driving with that concussion."

* * *

The Company had been reluctant to allow Mr. Bennet to visit his family. But, it was eventually concluded that Claire had to be assured her father was alive in order to keep her from revealing her power to the world. Normally, they would simply capture Claire, but they wanted her father's services. He would only be loyal if his family was safe.

So that was why Mr. Bennet was able to sit down with his emotionally distraught daughter as she rambled on about Nathan's death, and the unfairness of her life. When Claire finished her taxing rant, and dried her tears, Mr. Bennet did his best to comfort her.

"Claire," he said softly, "I know it's unfair. But listen to me. It could be worse. The Company has adopted a new policy. They killed Nathan to keep him silent. The only reason they haven't killed you is because they're positive you'll keep quiet. But you'll have to be strong for me."

He paused, pondering how to deliver the bad news. Eventually, he decided to do it bluntly.

"I know that West has been recruited by the Company, under threat that his family will be killed if he doesn't obey."

"WHAT?!" Claire exploded. "Dad, they can't do that!"

Mr. Bennet motioned for Claire to quiet down. "Unfortunately, they can. I'm letting you know now, and telling you not to interfere in his work. All he has to do is report people he suspects of having special abilities. He'll be alright."

"But dad, it's not fair! They're destroying people's lives, and no one's doing anything to stop them! Isn't there anyone who can—"

"No!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed. "I can't! _You_ can't! _No one_ can! Fighting the Company is like trying to take down Sylar, powerless, blindfolded, with your hands tied behind your back! It's impossible! And I will not have you ruin your life, trying to take them down! Nor will I allow you to convince someone else to try to face off against them. They will fail."

The pair jumped in shock as an alarm clock went off. Mr. Bennet sighed. "My visiting time is up. Hold on Claire. Things will get better."

Claire watched helplessly as her dad exited the house to the awaiting Company car. All she could think about was the lack of conviction in her dad's voice. 'Things will get better'. Yeah right. Things would always be bad as long as the Company was around. And if it was impossible to destroy them, Claire knew that things would never get better.

* * *

Hiro walked through the crowded streets of Japan with Ando, completely silent. Ando glanced occasionally at his friend, deeply concerned. Ever since dealing with Kensei, Hiro had seemed darker, almost as if he was deeply depressed about something. And, finally, Ando gathered the courage to ask what it was.

"Why are you so depressed?" He finally blurted in Japanese. Ando ducked his head, embarrassed at the bluntness of his question. Hiro looked at his friend, considered him, and then answered simply.

"This world will always have evil. It seems every time one problem is solved, another arises. Why is it _my_ responsibility to take care of the villains?"

Ando was confused. "What happened to the Hiro I knew? The one happy to save the world?"

"I _am_ happy to save the world. By taking care of Kensei, I saved many people. He was planning to release a virus that would wipe out the world. He thought he was God." Hiro shook his head. "But I'm angry, Ando. I'm angry that such an evil could manage to manifest. That power,_especially_ the power of healing, was abused in such a way. I'm depressed, as you so gently put it, Ando, because we, as a human race, will never learn. There will always be evil."

Suddenly, the entire world seemed to spin. And then, they weren't in Japan anymore. They were on top of the Devoux building, New York.

"Hiro?" Ando asked. "Why are we here?"

"I didn't do this!" Hiro said, completely shocked.

"No," a voice answered. "I did." Hiro and Ando whipped around. They were staring at— well, it was Hiro. Except he was older. But unlike the future Hiro they had encountered when New York exploded, this Hiro was smiling. There was no difference between the present and future Hiro, save the fact that the future Hiro had grown a beard and swapped his glasses for contacts. They shared the same hair, and wore similar clothes.

"Why am I here?" Young Hiro asked. Future Hiro smiled.

"To save the future. And, restore your optimism in human nature. But first, the bad news." Future Hiro nodded towards New York City.

"We are ten years into the future, into a future where you _don't_ interfere with the course of events. There is an organization called the Company. You know the Company. You stopped Kensei from releasing the virus within the Company walls.

"But you have to understand that the Company's whole purpose is to control the heroes of the world. People like us. And, in this future, they have managed to get all heroes under lock and key, and to kill those who resist. Heroes live in fear of their lives. But, though the Company is trying to stabilize the world, the world is sinking into corruption.

"You remember Peter Petrelli, correct? He's been forced to pick up each ability and explore it's full potential. The Company then researches the power, and creates technology from what they learn. Then, they often kill off the original.

"Heroes have become lab rats. They've become less than human. The Company is now matchmaking the heroes, _breeding_ them, like animals, to get different powers, and ordering other heroes never to start their own family. Those who disobey are killed. The hero population is rapidly decreasing. The Company thinks they're saving their kind from the world by this elimination. But in reality, they're killing themselves off.

"And worse— a war is coming. A world war. A _nuclear_ world war. Twenty years from now, thirty years from your present day, there will be a nuclear war. If there was a larger population of Heroes, they could protect themselves, and save the human race. But, since their numbers are dwindling, the Company is ensuring that won't happen. Unless the Company is stopped early on, the entire world will vanish, unable to protect itself from the nuclear war."

There was silence. A nuclear war. The world would be dead. But something didn't make sense.

"Wait," young Hiro asked his future self. "How did you escape all of this? The Company— why haven't they captured you too?"

Future Hiro smiled. "This is not the dimension I was born into. I've been dimension jumping. I come from a much happier reality."

"Huh?" Ando asked, completely lost. Young Hiro was lost too, though he wouldn't admit it. Future Hiro smiled.

"I'll show you."

The scene changed. The trio found themselves in a small New York apartment. Future Hiro directed his younger self and Ando to the TV, where the News was being broadcast.

"This will explain my reality," Future Hiro told them. Hiro and Ando turned their attention to the television.

"It seems that finally, everyone accepts the fact that there are super powered beings among us," The newscaster was saying in the dramatic voice that all newscasters seem to have. "These humans are genetically a separate species, and have named themselves Hero-Humans. Now that we know they exist, the question is, what do we do about them? New organizations are emerging with various ideas.

"One idea comes from GASP, Group for the Advancement of Super Powers. They're insisting that all male heroes be forced to become sperm donors so that the super powers will be spread throughout the world. Their opposition, the HRA, Human Rights for All, argues that it's inhumane to force them to procreate. Though genetically they're a different species, they have all the human characteristics shared by you and I. The founder of the HRA, Mr. Micah Sanders, a hero himself, was unavailable for questioning. We did, however, get to speak to the cofounder, James Jenkins."

The TV switched to an old man, who was bent with age. But, despite this, a power seemed to radiate from him. Not a super human power, more like the power that came with confidence. He spoke directly into the mike provided. "They shouldn't be expected to save the world. They shouldn't be ordered to be lab rats to further our understanding. Like any human, they deserve to lead normal lives."

Future Hiro turned off the TV. "That's about all there is to know. Within the next five years, the world will calm down, and hero-human and human will live in harmony. That leaves plenty of time to prepare for the war. And there will be a large enough hero population to save the world. But, this reality won't even exist if you do nothing to stop the Company."

"But what do I do?" young Hiro asked. "I don't even know where to begin!"

"Don't worry," future Hiro smiled. "We'll show you."

"We?" Ando inquired.

"Yes, we. I could never do all this alone, so I got Gabriel to help me. He's wonderful with time, better than I am actually. He promised to arrive in three, two—"

The door to the apartment opened. Future Hiro's smile widened.

"One. I still don't know how you do that so precisely."

Young Hiro and Ando turned to the door to see who future Hiro was talking to. What they saw rendered the pair speechless with shock. Hiro's mind was reeling_. No. It's not possible. I killed him!_

But the man in the doorway seemed ignorant to the fact that he should be dead. He had traces of gray in his hair, and more creases around his eyes, but it was definitely the same man.

Hiro might not have believed it possible, but he knew it could be no other person who stood in the doorway. Young Hiro yelled out the man's name in shock.

"Sylar!"

* * *

A/N: I just love what's coming up next! Yes, I know, I'm evil. I left it at a cliffhanger. But I won't leave you hanging too long, I promise! Next chapter: We learn about all the confusing possibilities of time travel.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yikes! That took a lot longer than I thought. Time travel is highly confusing. And, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my dad, a Heroes fan as well, because he managed to make the writing of this chapter much easier. I wouldn't say he's an expert on time travel theories, but he knew a lot more than I did. And he'd like me to inform you that the word dimension can be substituted with plane of existence or alternate reality, depending on your time travel theories. With that being said, you can forget the author's note if it pleases you, and skip right to reading the chapter.

**Chapter 5**

Sylar was alive, and standing before him. A madman, a killer, was only feet away, and Hiro had no means to defend himself. Young Hiro desperately wished he had his sword. Then he could run the man through once more, and maybe, he'd stay dead. Fear was sending his mind into overdrive. His heart was pulsating rapidly, a rapid rhythm that screamed one word: _run_. Hiro was about to do just that when he noticed Ando. His friend had completely frozen, staring at Sylar in open-mouthed shock. Hiro was about to leap forward and teleport Ando to safety when— Sylar began to laugh.

This action was so out of character that Hiro paused. He watched with fascination as the villain's face contorted, as he shook with the waves of laughter.

"Oh that's enough!" future Hiro snapped. "Their fear isn't _that_ funny!"

Sylar took a steadying breath, stifling the offending noise. "Sorry, Hiro," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But you didn't see the look on their faces!"

Future Hiro's gaze was unforgiving, but it didn't fade Sylar's smile. Sylar turned from the future Hiro to look young Hiro in the eye.

"Hi." Sylar said, his voice deeper than was natural, thanks to a certain power. Sylar took a step forward— and somehow managed to clear the length of the room, and end up an inch from Hiro's face.

Hiro couldn't help it. He let out a silent scream, stumbled backward, and hit the floor. Sylar restrained his laughter. He telekinetically pulled Hiro to his feet, smiling at Hiro's shell-shocked expression.

"I don't believe we've met," Sylar continued in a normal voice. "I'm Gabriel."

"Leave them alone!" future Hiro snarled. Sylar backed off, a glint of some unidentifiable emotion in his eye.

"Sorry about him," future Hiro apologized. "He doesn't get out much. And though he's greatly changed, and is no longer the murderer you knew, he still has an _annoying_—" Hiro glared at Sylar, "habit of showing off, and playing practical jokes. Call him Gabriel. Sylar is officially dead, his record cleared."

"How?" Ando asked with disbelief.

Sylar answered, still smiling. "Five years of intense therapy with various heroes who could best control me. They had to bring in heroes when I_accidentally_ mutilated my first therapist. You see, I found another way to be special. I became a hero. The world _loves_ me," Sylar said fondly. Hiro shivered at the thought of Sylar being loved as a _hero_ of all things. "And you see, the government is reluctant to incarcerate or kill a hero. The people would violently protest. That's how things work. So, they agreed to clear me of all charges if I agreed to the therapy. After all, even though I loved being a hero, I was still power-hungry, and I looked at murder as fun, adventurous, and meaningless. I was _dangerous_."

Future Hiro snorted. "You _still_ are power-hungry Gabriel. You seek advantageous over everyone and everything."

"Well, the only sort of power-hungry the government was concerned with was my obsession with murdering people for power. But, as I was saying, as far as the world knows, Sylar never existed. All they know is Gabriel Grey, their angel, their hero. And, I quite like that."

Young Hiro tried to process all of this. He stared at the man he had once devoted so much time to killing. He knew the killer was still within him. Hiro had seen it in the way Sylar's eyes had glinted as he aimed to terrify Ando and himself. He saw the villain in the way Sylar stood, the way he held himself so confidently, as if above everyone else.

And yet— Hiro could see change as well. For one thing, his clothes were different. Sylar wore a white turtleneck, jeans, and a large trench coat, which was hardly fashionable, or the style he used to wear. And the old Sylar definitely couldn't get along with Hiro's future self in the way this Sylar was managing to do. Sylar didn't look at future Hiro as though he wanted to use him, and their relationship seemed— friendly, as strange as it was. And Sylar seemed . . . softer. No, that wasn't the word. Contented? Yes, contented. He looked happy. And that was an emotion Hiro had never seen on the villain's face.

Was he different enough to call him by a whole new name?

Future Hiro cleared his throat. "You can trust Gabriel, Hiro. I trust him. Can't you trust yourself?" Future Hiro turned to Ando, who was still frozen with fear. "And Ando. Don't you trust me? Your best friend? Please, sit down, and listen. I have much to tell you."

Future Hiro motioned to a large table in one corner of the apartment. Young Hiro reluctantly turned his back on Sylar to take a seat. Though he didn't really expect Sylar to attack him with his future self around, he was still relieved when he sat down without incident. The remaining three were quick to follow.

For a couple of seconds, nothing was said. Then, future Hiro began to speak.

"Before we tell you what must be done to save the world, we have to explain a bit about how dimensions work. First of all, there are many dimensions—"

"How many?" Ando blurted out.

Sylar snorted. "Infinite."

Future Hiro sighed. "Gabriel, don't make it more confusing than it already is. As I was saying, there are many dimensions, or planes of existence, or alternate universes, or whatever you want to call them. But, as far as I'm concerned, dimension is easiest to say. And since no one's around to correct, me . . . Anyway . . . The dimension a person is born into is called their root dimension. Now, you know how many factors are taken into consideration before each person makes a decision? Choice options can be infinite. And each different choice creates a new dimension, a branch for the root dimension to take."

Hiro and Ando stared blankly trying to comprehend. Future Hiro tried to think of how to better explain it, when Sylar butted in.

"Let me give you an example. You're in school, and you're about to take the final exam. You didn't study, and the kid next to you is the school brain. It is highly tempting to cheat. Let's say you refuse to cheat because it's against your moral values. Now, a dimension, or plane of existence, is created in which that decision exists. A butterfly effect occurs, where that one decision affects numerous other future events. But, it was equally likely that you could glance at the paper and read one answer. This possibility also manifests itself, and takes on it's own dimension in which that choice exists. Essentially, every choice you would likely make becomes a dimension of its own. And, whichever choice you are conscious of making continues to be your root dimension. The other choices that you _didn't_ make are branches, manifestations of all the choices you could have made. Now do you follow?"

Young Hiro nodded. "I think so."

"Good," Future Hiro stated happily. "Now, I get to explain the role of us, benders of time and space.

"We are the exceptions to the rule. We can go back in time, and influence people to make decisions, decisions that didn't exist in our dimension. There are five possible ways to ravel time, and influence dimensions. If you go into the past before you were born, your decisions back then affect your current reality. Therefore, if you influence something before you were born, as you live your life, you're predestined to influence the past in the exact same way. There is no screwing up. I think the scientific types call it predetermination. It gets more complicated, but we don't need to go there.

"When you visited yourself at your father's funeral however, things were different. You talked to yourself. It was within your lifetime. However, you weren't trying to influence yourself to change the present. Then you talked to your father. By doing both of these events, you influenced decisions and created a reality, more branches. But, you didn't see the new reality as advantageous to you, because as you saw it, nothing had changed. So, you returned to your own dimension, which was unaltered by your actions.

"However, things could have gone differently. For example, take the future you that tried to stop New York from exploding. He talked to Peter Petrelli, and influenced him to save a healing cheerleader from Sylar. Now, if he returned to where he left, he would've found nothing had changed. Instead, he unconsciously traveled to the future influenced by his decision. The one in which a bomb still had gone off, but the cheerleader was safe. Because he felt the place he returned to was his reality, he displaced his alternate self, living as the one and only Hiro. That is why I have to explain this to you. Ignorance about dimensions can lead to disastrous problems.

"Then, you visited that future. That action further complicated things. You learned of things that you hadn't previously known in the past. By viewing this future, and returning to your present, you altered your reality, creating a branch for your root dimension to follow that didn't previously exist, and by doing that, you saved the world. But, had your future self lived, he would've found his life unchanged, continuing heedless of your actions. That's because of the dimensions. You see, the choices that saved the world from the bomb were not a part of his dimension. In order to obtain the happy future he wanted, he would have to dimension jump, and in his ignorance, he probably would've replaced you. Replacement _is_ reversible, however. One just has to return to their own dimension. As you can tell, there are many possibilities to time travel, all of them confusing. But the best option when time traveling is bringing your past self to your future. This way, you don't accidentally influence unwanted events while in the past, and _only_ influence the decisions you yourself make.

"That's why we're talking to you now. Before I took you here, there was no chance of the human race living through the nuclear war. There was no chance of the Company being defeated, and stopped before they weakened the human race. And by the time we're finished, there'll be— oh, I'm terrible with these calculations. Gabriel?"

"Finally including me, huh?" Sylar smirked. "If things continue on the track they're on, there'll be a 0 chance of the war not occurring, and 20 chance of it being stopped before it does any irreversible damage that would wipe out the human race. Half of that 20 chance ends with only hero-humans populating the Earth. And—hold on, I'm calculating— there's a .003 chance that the 20 ends with me being happily married with two children."

Ando choked on his own spit. Hiro felt his jaw drop.

"Married?" Hiro squeaked in shock.

Sylar shook his head. "That's not a good chance. But I like that reality. I visit it occasionally. I'm happier there than I am here. I brought this picture—"

"YOU BROUGHT A PICTURE!" Future Hiro roared. " That's unnecessary contraband! It's our _job_ to get rid of all things that aren't in their proper time! You know what the government could do if they found out?!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist!" Sylar snarled, fingering the collar of his ridiculous turtleneck. "My family isn't home, and I'll put the picture back a millisecond after I took it."

"It's not _your_ family!" Future Hiro said exasperated. "It belongs to a you, a different you, who made different decisions—"

Sylar interrupted loudly, "What? I can't hear you!" His eyes were filled with an all to familiar malicious glint. For a second, young Hiro saw Sylar once more. Sylar roughly pulled a small, framed picture out of his coat pocket, and thrust it under Hiro and Ando's noses.

"See?" Sylar said softly, his anger at future Hiro fading. "There _is_ some good in me. That's the future I want. My younger self may not know it— but I want it now. I can't speak for the man in your present . . . I'm not him. I'm not Sylar. And the Sylar you know isn't likely to be anything like me. To tell you the truth, it's likely I stay locked in a lab, experimented on for life. But, there is a chance . . ."

Hiro examined the picture. The first thing he noticed was that Sylar was dressed for warm weather, wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt, and a thick silver necklace. He was sitting with his arm around a young Hispanic woman, also in Hawaiian themed clothes. _This must have been taken in Hawaii_, Hiro mused. But that wasn't the strangest part. Sylar and the woman were grinning ear to ear with genuine happiness. Seated in Sylar's lap was a young girl, maybe six years of age, who was sticking her tongue out defiantly at the camera. In the woman's lap sat a boy, who looked to be no more than three. The boy's arms were blurs as he flung them through the air, playing with an equally blurred object.

"My son— oh,_alright_ Hiro— my son from another dimension— has lightning reflexes. That's why the image is blurred," Sylar explained in what can only be described as an affectionate tone, as scary as that is. "My other self can barely keep up with him. I'm not sure what ability my other self's daughter has. I'm not _allowed_ to stay long enough to find out. But, .003 is a chance, and I hope your reality experiences it."

Future Hiro cleared his throat. "We are not here to discuss _fantasies_. But something you must understand is that 80 of the events leading to a happy future aren't in your control. Even if you do everything possible, it's still probable that your root dimension will be destroyed by a nuclear war. There's nothing you can do about the statistics."

Young Hiro frowned. And then, surprisingly, Ando made a decent observation.

"Um . . . Gabriel? You said that you visited a dimension. And, obviously, Hiro didn't know about it. How is that possible? And you know stuff about time travel that Hiro doesn't know. I don't get it."

Sylar smirked. "Glad you asked."

Future Hiro sighed. "It's a long story, but first, I must explain something else.

"Remember me saying that before my interference, there was no chance of there being any survivors of the nuclear war before I initiated this conversation?"

Young Hiro nodded.

"Well then— wonder how it's possible that I'm talking to you now when this future is impossible?"

Ando articulately put together the one thought on his and Hiro's mind. "Huh?"

Future Hiro seemed to be in deep thought. "It's highly confusing when you bring the past to the future. Especially when that future shouldn't exist. I am part of a dimension that is only a possibility. The difference between a possibility dimension and the dimension you live in, is that there is no branch leading to it. Only from it. It's isolated. Possibility dimensions exist everywhere. But, they only exist when someone within them can bend space and time.

"I told you time travelers complicate the whole equation. Every time traveler wishes to save future. And, if it's impossible, and they can't figure out what to do, and they can't correct things by visiting their root dimension's past, other dimensions will manifest in which the future is desirable, though they are presently impossible to reach. Now, either the time traveler with the dismal future has to discover the likable future, or the likable future can discover that its past self needs help to achieve such a desirable life. If the possible dimension is never connected to a root dimension by a time traveler, that possibility dies. I'm making sure my reality, this possibility, exists.

"I discovered how to dimension jump purely on accident, like most time travelers do. I visited my past for the sake of reliving good times, only to find that many of my happy memories had never occurred. And worse, the Company hadn't fallen, which I was sure it had.

"It didn't take long for me to realize that the way my past was heading, that I would never reach my present. My dimension wasn't connected to anything that could bring it about. And needless to say, that concerned me. It took me several years, but I finally figured out the key piece behind keeping the human race alive. And that was taking the Company down within a certain timeframe. I discovered what that timeframe was, but I was finding it difficult to figure out who had to be involved to ensure the Company's destruction.

"I visited dimension after dimension in which the human race survived the war. The wonderful, impossible dimensions, that didn't yet have a chance of occurring. And I realized they all had one thing in common. Sylar was involved in every victory. But, I also noticed he was involved in a good portion of the failures as well. I couldn't figure out how he thought, how to change his path so he would ensure a happy future. And the only thing that made sense was to visit the man himself."

Sylar suddenly took over. "When Hiro first came to see me, I was working the job I work in all successful dimensions, meaning dimensions where I'm cleared of all charges, and _not_ being a lab rat. I was figuring out how people with dangerous powers worked, so they could get their abilities under control. I also could figure out which buttons to push to make a power manifest itself, for those who knew of their hero status, but seemed to have no ability. Taxing work, but I was the only one who could do it, the only one who saw clearly how things worked, and the world loved me for it. It made me feel special.

"Then, suddenly, I'm being given the same dimension explanation you're getting now. Obviously, I wanted to exist. So, I agreed to travel with Hiro, to figure out how to ensure the present." Sylar shook his head in exasperation. "But I was becoming more confused with each dimension I saw. Though I knew how things worked, I couldn't figure out which root dimension I should influence to cause myself to make any one of the many choices that would lead to a positive future. Eventually, I figured out what I had to do. I had to pick the dimensions myself. I had to select which reality to go to. I was the only one who could figure myself out. But, I couldn't choose dimensions. I lacked the ability to bend time and space."

Future Hiro interrupted. "So I found the only solution. I know that it's easier to find yourself within dimensions, so I understood that it would be necessary for Gabriel to time travel if our reality was to have any hope. So, I decided to take him to a future in which I would be slaughtered by one of the many nuclear bombs. I decided to let him take my possible future self's ability."

"WHAT?!" Young Hiro exploded. "You let him kill me?!"

"Calm yourself!" Future Hiro ordered. "Obviously, my future self knew he was to die, and had gotten used to the idea. I explained what I was doing, and why, and he wholeheartedly agreed to let Gabriel murder him."

"_Sylar_ murdered him," Sylar interjected venomously. "I'm _Gabriel_._I_ didn't kill the future you. _Sylar_ did. And it was one of the most painful things I ever had to do to revert to that state of mind. I had originally been worried it would reawaken my need to take abilities. But taking powers, which once gave me pleasure, so revolted me, and as I took Hiro's power— well, let's just say a certain therapist rearranged my thought process quite successfully."

"Don't forget, the government had to sort you out too," Hiro reminded Sylar. "They would never let you go without ensuring you could never take another ability."

Sylar ducked his head. He looked . . . embarrassed? Hiro and Ando watched in astonishment as Sylar's cheeks became inflamed with the red of a definite blush.

"Did you have to bring that up?" He asked, glaring at future Hiro with feral intensity, face still the color of brick.

"Yes," Hiro said. "Because the Company's defeat isn't the only factor in keeping the human race alive." Future Hiro turned to his younger self. "It is absolutely necessary for Gabriel to live through the Company's defeat, and be kept alive until the nuclear war. In prison, in a lab, or living life cleared of charges, all work. Because you see, Gabriel is one of the people behind organizing the heroes to save the human race from the nuclear war. He'll do it in exchange for freedom from the lab, freedom from prison, or just to save his own hide. The other people involved in the world's salvation are guaranteed to live, so you don't have to worry about them. But Gabriel's fate is volatile."

Future Hiro turned to face Sylar. "I need to tell them, Gabriel, no matter how much it embarrasses you, that the government will only let you live if you wear that collar. And that collar will only exist if they interfere."

"What collar?" young Hiro questioned.

Though Hiro had noted earlier that Sylar's style of dress had changed, he had chalked it up to Sylar's personality changing, or the modern style of dress changing. Not out of embarrassment. The turtleneck Sylar wore in itself was embarrassing. But apparently, Sylar thought what it hid was far worse.

Sylar hesitantly pulled down the collar of the turtleneck, to reveal a thick metal band encircling his neck. It was a collar. The same collar Hiro had mistaken for a necklace in the picture he had been shown of a different future Sylar. There were areas of the collar that allowed for movement, and as Hiro followed the collar's path around Sylar's neck, he noticed something. While most of it was the thickness of a pencil, on the back of Sylar's neck the device had thickened, and seemed to be physically entering through his skin.

Sylar replaced the collar of his turtleneck. "That metal collar was surgically applied. Part of it actually attaches to my skull, but most of the internal stuff is to monitor the DNA found in my spinal fluid. And let me tell you— every time they asked for samples of that stuff was pure torture. I think they got some perverse pleasure in taking samples to make sure the device worked . . . Anyway, apparently the device works better taking DNA from spinal fluid than taking DNA from regular blood." Sylar's voice dripped with bitterness. "Which of course meant, that the collar had to be near my spine. What better place to put it than around the neck like a collar? The device monitors the DNA, making sure there is no sudden or dramatic change. Any change to DNA that cannot be explained by age or brief exposure to radiation, and the device activates. So, if I ever take a power, and alter my DNA, this collar will inject enough drugs into my system to knock me out. It will radio HRA headquarters, and they will try to determine whether it's possible the collar is malfunctioning. If they decide it isn't, they press a button, and I die."

Sylar scowled. "My life is in someone else's hands. And I hate it."

Young Hiro and Ando were silent after such a story. Future Hiro clapped his hands together nervously.

"Yes. Well . . . it was a necessity to get permission from the head of HRA, Micah Sanders, to deactivate the collar for this one power. Mr. Sanders eventually agreed that it was necessary, deactivated the collar, and promised to reprogram to collar when we got back, so it wouldn't knock Gabriel out needlessly.

"So, after Gabriel got the ability to time travel, and the collar reapplied—"

"After taking many more painful samples of spinal fluid—" Sylar snarled.

"Oh, hush! It hurt, they're mean, life's unfair, I get it. As I was saying, Gabriel made quick work of figuring out what needed to be done. Did you know Hiro, that it isn't necessary to send your body through time?"

Young Hiro shook his head.

"Well, it is possible to send only your conscious mind. And, you still have some physical capabilities as well. Peter Petrelli has managed this several times on accident. I talked to him, and apparently, there was a moment where he went to the future, no one saw him, and he came back with a flyer. Peter said that according to Kensei, whom he was with, Peter never left the room. Peter Petrelli managed to bring something through space without sending his body through space, an achievement it took me months to master."

Hiro shook his head in disbelief. "But the point is, that Gabriel has tracked down all the events that you need to ensure happen or don't happen to create this happy future, or a similar happy future. And, he will take you there, only mentally."

Sylar reached forward. Young Hiro quickly got to his feet, backing away.

"Don't touch me!" He yelled out. Sylar sighed sadly.

"I swear, I don't bite . . . anymore." Though young Hiro was highly reluctant, he allowed Sylar to grab hold of his hands. Ando watched as the two of them closed their eyes, and were still.

"Is that it?" Ando asked future Hiro.

"Yes," he replied. "They're time traveling. Gabriel promised to give me two minutes alone with you, so I have to make this fast."

"Huh?" Ando inquired, clueless as usual.

"Your friend, my younger self, isn't allowed to know certain facts about the future, or he'll screw it up. And, there're certain things you'll screw up if you don't understand.

"Don't discourage Hiro from doing what he says needs to be done. He knows how to save the future. You don't. Don't interfere."

Ando nodded, slightly offended, but understanding nonetheless.

"And here's what Hiro can't know. As I said, the fate of the future is 80 out of his hands. He knows that, but he would ruin everything if he knew whom the future depended on. It depends on Sylar and Maya."

"Sylar and who?" Ando asked, not believing what he was hearing. The fate of the world rested on Sylar?!

"Maya. The woman in the picture Gabriel showed you. You see, if Maya is killed by Sylar before the Company is destroyed, the Company will survive, and the world will die in the nuclear war. Sylar can kill her after the Company's destruction, but only afterward. For another thing, Maya wants Sylar dead. She wants revenge against him because he manipulated her, and killed her brother. I would have agreed with her desire for revenge in the past, but if she manages to kill him, the Company will go down, but the nuclear war will be lost, and the human race will die. And, the only thing Hiro can possibly do about it is hope that he's in the reality where Sylar in Maya make the right decisions. Remember, Ando, just because Hiro ensures that there _can_ be a happy future, doesn't mean there will be one for him personally."

Ando was silent. Then, after a brief pause, he asked, resigned, "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you don't feel mad at Hiro if it all goes wrong for your reality." Future Hiro answered. "The friendship the two of you share is one of the strongest I've seen and experienced. It would be a shame for it to break."

"So let me get this straight," Ando began. "Unless Sylar and this Maya girl resist killing each other, the human race will die?"

Future Hiro paused, then nodded. "That's pretty much it."

Ando was about to yell at Hiro about how ridiculous that was. But then he remembered the picture Sylar . . . or Gabriel, or whoever he was . . . had shown him. The picture of the happy family. There was a .003 chance that Sylar and Maya would more than resist killing each other. There was a chance that they would happily settle down as Maya and Gabriel Grey. A small chance, but still a chance. If that was possible, it was probably possible that they could get along long enough to save the world.

A slight movement caught Ando's eye. He turned to find Sylar and young Hiro shifting positions, finally back from their mental travel through time and space.

"Sorry, Ando," Young Hiro said. "I had no idea it would take that long."

"Long? You were only gone for two minutes."

"Two minutes? I've been gone for hours!" Hiro's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Time travel." Sylar said, with a slight smirk. "I may know how things work, but I'm still figuring out all of the possibilities." Sylar turned to future Hiro. "Is that all? I've shown him what he needs to do."

"One more thing," Future Hiro stated turning to Sylar. "We need to give them the information on your collar."

Sylar sighed. Hiro and Ando watched as several sheets of paper flew into the room, and landed, seemingly of their own accord, in Sylar's hands. He approached young Hiro, and handed over the papers. "Here," He said. "You know what to do with these. And—" Sylar hesitated. "Do you think you could convince him to look for a more convenient design than a collar in the future? You know, after this original model is created."

Young Hiro nodded, gripping the papers tightly. "I'll do that for you . . . Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Ando questioned in shock. But Hiro didn't answer him. He grabbed Ando roughly by the arm, and the two of them disappeared back to their present, or their root dimension, or . . . whatever it was.

* * *

_**Two days after Hiro returns to the present.**_

* * *

Sylar, meanwhile, had no desire to be called Gabriel. He had no knowledge that there was a war to come in thirty years, and that he would determine the fate of the human race. He hadn't the faintest idea that the man who ran him through with a sword was trying to ensure that he lived as a reformed man in society.

And if Sylar had been told this, he would have promptly murdered the person who had given him the information. Anyone that insane needed to be put out of their misery.

Currently, Sylar was stationed just outside Primitech Paper. He had arrived. And no one knew he was there. _They'll know soon enough_, Sylar thought, visions of all the damage he would inflict running through his mind.

And, the best part was the entrance. He had it all planned out. He needed to get into the basement, the heart of the Company base. And he would have someone take him there. Then he would use the element of surprise. _I knew those acting courses I took in high school would come in handy some day_, Sylar mused. With that thought, he walked right up to the front door, and entered Primitech.

What he saw was many boring people, doing the many boring jobs associated with being in a paper factory. But all of these activities stopped when he entered. Everyone stared at him in shock, everyone halted.

"Who is responsible for taking my abilities?" Sylar said in a menacing voice. Nobody moved. Now, it was the time to get dramatic. Sylar said in the most desperate, angry voice he could, "I want them back! Give me my power back! I'll do anything! Please . . ."

Maybe it was a bit too much. But no. They were lapping it up. Waiting to get a car that wouldn't be followed and generally keeping a low profile _had_ been worth it after all. They thought he was powerless. A heavy-set man confidently strode forward, reaching into his pocket as he did so.

"This way, Mr. Sylar," he said in a confident voice. Sylar was highly ticked off, as the man took the liberty of restraining him. Sylar let out an involuntary yelp as his arm was yanked behind his back, and a knife was placed to his neck. _Who the heck keeps a knife in their pocket?!_ Sylar raged.

_Stay calm_, Sylar urged himself. _Wait until you get into the heart of the Company. Then take it down_. These thoughts kept Sylar sane as the Company employee slowly and carefully marched him to the basement. It was a long process because the pair was so closely pressed together the man kept stepping on Sylar's feet. Progress had to be slow to ensure Sylar didn't impale himself on the knife pressed into his neck.

No employees moved to aid the man. They just watched. Sylar could only assume that his escort was making sure everyone understood that the honor of taking Sylar to the boss was his, and his alone. Sylar might have been able to tell for sure if this theory was true, except he was looking at the ceiling most of the time, head instinctively tilted back away from the blade.

And finally— there were no more people. Silence. The prison walls, the true Company. He had made it past the manpower and the weapons and defenses. He had surprise on his side. He would win.

"Where is your boss?" Sylar choked out, trying to ignore the fact that the knife seemed closer to tearing into his flesh as he spoke.

"Like I'd tell you," The employee laughed. "You can't hurt me."

"Can't I?" Sylar asked. Before the man realized what had happened, he found himself pinned to the wall, knife sitting uselessly on the floor.

Sylar laughed, holding out a single hand, choking the life out of the man. He smiled as the employees face contorted, as he struggled uselessly to breath, to speak, to call for help.

"You— _tried_—to take my ability." Sylar smirked. "And now, you pay the price."

He let the man drop to the floor. He watched for a few seconds as the man took quick gasps, as he struggled to regain his breath, his confident air gone. Then, Sylar got tired of waiting, and spoke.

"Take me to your boss. If you speak, I'll kill you. If you try to touch anything, I'll kill you. Hands above your head!" he ordered, restraining a laugh as the man put his hands up into the typical 'I surrender' position.

"Now, make no sudden movements. Take me to the head of this Company."

Sylar watched in satisfaction as the man moved to comply. The pair went down three hallways, until finally, they reached an unmarked steel door. The man moved to open it.

"Ah, ah!" Sylar reprimanded, once again telekinetically putting the man in a chokehold. "I told you not to touch anything! For all I know, there's an army behind that door."

With that sentence, Sylar ripped the door off its hinges to find— a man sitting at a desk. It was an office. Quickly, Sylar seized the man at the desk using telekinesis. If there was an alarm button beneath the desktop, he didn't want it pressed.

Sylar pulled the man over the top of the desk, and took the time to examine him. His skin was a muddy brown, his eyes pools of black. He wore an ordinary business suit, and Sylar could tell that he held no ability just by looking in his eyes. Sylar released the man from his telekinetic grip, watching with satisfaction as the man hit the floor. The sounds of the employee slowly strangling to death in the background only added to his pleasure.

"Who are you? Did you take my powers?" Sylar asked the man on the floor. Sylar traced the man's every move as he got slowly to his feet.

"My name is John. I— I just run this section of the Company. The one who took your powers runs the whole thing."

"Then who runs the_whole thing_?" Sylar sneered. The man's trembling no longer brought him pleasure. It was merely delaying the information he needed. This man wasn't ultimately responsible for his grief. He still had someone else to find. But taking out this Company base in the meantime would be worthwhile. After all, Sylar needed to show the Company that he could defeat it, that he could damage it. What better way than to take out one of its facilities?

"The Company head . . . his name is Bob. Robert Bishop."

"And where can I find this Robert Bishop?" Sylar snarled, patience thinning. He wanted to trash the place and get it over with.

"New York. The Company headquarters is in New York. Though most of the Company activities go on in a skyscraper, the actual headquarters is in a nondescript building. You'll find Bob there. The address— the address is in the top drawer of my desk, file one, New York. Please . . . don't hurt me."

Sylar snorted. Yeah, right. Like he was the sort to show mercy. Sylar once again froze John, the head of Primitech, with telekinesis. Sylar noticed that the employee's strangled gasps had disappeared. Sylar released his hold on what was now a corpse. No point in wasting energy. Sylar reached into the desk. There it was. The file, just as John had said. Sylar quickly memorized the address.

"You've been so helpful, John," Sylar purred. "I've decided to let you live. But on one condition."

John smiled and nodded eagerly. "I'll do anything!"

"Where are those with abilities contained?"

John's face fell. "I'm sorry. We aren't holding any in this building. No one has any sort of power here besides a decent gun. But, maybe I can figure out where the majority is—"

Sylar silenced the man with a wave of his had. He hadn't used a power. He was just intimidating that way. Sylar had learned there was nothing worth salvaging within the building. So there was nothing stopping him from causing the whole place to go up dramatically. _With lots of flames and a decent explosion_, Sylar mentally added. And the best part was, no one had been alerted to his presence. They would be dead before they knew what hit them.

Sylar focused all of his power, and began to power up for something— nuclear.

"What are you doing?" John yelled out in fear. But Sylar couldn't hear him. He was busy building up a strong enough blast to take out the entire building so there was nothing that was remotely salvageable, and yet not enough power to destroy anything besides Primitech. He wanted the Company head, Robert Bishop, to know that he meant business, not the whole city of Odessa.

The power was all consuming. He would have to release all of that radiation into the air soon. Sylar braced himself. He knew he would have to have lightning fast reflexes to stop the debris from crushing him. He would have to make a telekinetic bubble to keep himself alive.

With that thought, Sylar released the blast. He felt the power of the heat as it expelled metal up and away from him. But what goes up must come down. Sylar braced himself, hoping his telekinetic skills would be enough save him from any impact.

* * *

A/N: Finally, it's finished! Sorry about that. Time travel was more confusing than I thought, and I had to rewrite the chapter, because I realized something didn't work. Then, there was the writing of Gabriel. It was really hard to keep him from going too ooc, and if I failed, I apologize. I do think I kept the present day Sylar in character. And, unfortunately, you may have to wait a while for the next update. I'm taking a vacation to see a friend of mine. Since she lives several states away, and I haven't seen her in six months, I won't be writing for the four days I'm visiting her. So, the next chapter may take over a week to get posted. But I will update as soon as I can.

But here's a preview while you wait! Chapter six: Mohinder, Molly and Maya meet Hiro! Will they listen to what he has to say?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: YES! It's here! Finally! It took me almost two weeks, but it's here! So, I hope it was worth the wait.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Maya had been feeling nothing but fury ever since she had returned from the clutches of the Company two days before. Every day she spent with Mohinder was another day that frustration tightened its grip on her soul.

Gabriel was out there, and there was nothing she could do to go after him. Bob was blackmailing her with deportation, for one thing. And for another, he had promised to capture or _eliminate_ her if she left Mohinder's residence for more than two days. No matter how she looked at it, she was stuck at the doctor's side.

At one point, she had reluctantly asked Mohinder if he would accompany her on her hunt for Gabriel. Though it was a journey she would have rather made alone, the Company was giving her no choice. As long as she was _with_ Mohinder, the Company should be alright. All Mohinder would have to do is make up some story. Something like "Hi Bob! I'm going to take a short break from this work. And I'll take Maya with me, to keep an eye on her." How hard was that to say? But no. Mohinder was determined that Gabriel take down the Company. That was his priority. Maya couldn't change his mind.

Due to Mohinder's stubbornness to avoid helping her, Maya had no choice but to hang out at the doctor's apartment. The two days that the Company would allow her away from Mohinder wasn't nearly enough to track down and kill Gabriel. So, she waited. She had waited for two days, and for a portion of those days, she was left alone. During the time Molly was at school, and while Mohinder worked for the very Company that oppressed her, Maya was able to spend many hours doing nothing but thinking. And during this time, her anger at Gabriel grew. Schemes for manipulating Mohinder into giving her what she wanted ran through her head. And as she thought of these things, these plans of doing almost anything to rid the world of Gabriel, she came to a terrible conclusion, a conclusion she had only briefly thought of once before.

Gabriel was just like her. A version of her that had gone horribly wrong, a man willing to do anything, such as killing her brother and manipulating her, to reach his goal. And as she spent those lonely hours in the apartment, her thoughts darkened, her schemes became more evil, and she became more horrified.

She was becoming Gabriel. Her automatic feeling was to hate him. His very existence was twisting her, creating the desperation to kill him, and that desperation was transforming her into some evil being. After the hateful emotions faded, she would be overcome by a feeling of intense sadness, intense sympathy for Gabriel and herself for being trapped with terrible obsessions. Which brought her to another question.

Did she really love Gabriel? Or did she pity him? When she thought she loved him, was it really love that she was feeling? Or was it sympathy? Empathy, perhaps? What was love anyway?

These thoughts ran rampant and freely through Maya's distressed mind— until someone returned to the apartment. She would shake herself, try to pull herself together, and try to forget her deranged thoughts and schemes. She refused to become like Gabriel.

"Do you understand Pythagorean Theorem?" Maya was pulled to the present by Molly's question. Thankfully, it wasn't addressed to her. She wasn't too sure which theorem that was, or how its title translated into Spanish.

Maya took the time to finally observe what was going on around her. Molly was doing her math homework, seated at the kitchen table. Mohinder was seated next to her, laptop in his hands. Presently, he was leaning over Molly's math worksheet, motioning to various figures, explaining whatever she needed to know. Maya smiled slightly. The pair certainly made an interesting family.

Mohinder finished whatever he had been saying. As he leaned back to continue working on the laptop, Molly fired off another question.

"When's Matt going to get home?"

Right. Maya had almost forgotten about him. Yesterday, Mohinder had spent a good hour trying to explain to this Matt character that Gabriel— or Sylar, as Mohinder called him— was alive. Mohinder also tried to explain that Sylar living might help destroy the Company, but Matt would have none of it. Maya had been able to hear every word on both ends of the conversation. Matt had been yelling, which caused Mohinder to hold the phone a good foot away from his ear, which made it far easier for Maya to eavesdrop. From what Maya could gather— and gathering information wasn't hard to do at such sound levels— Gabriel had put several bullets through Matt's chest. Obviously, Matt held a grudge. And the fact that Gabriel had attacked Molly in the past didn't help.

By the time the conversation ended, Maya felt miserable. Gabriel was still alive. He could be doing similar things to more people. She was the only person willing to do anything about it, and yet, she could do nothing. If only Mohinder saw things her way, and wanted Sylar dead as well . . .

Maya was shaken from her thoughts by Mohinder's response.

"He'll be back in about three days," Mohinder answered. "He's been trying to track down the assassin of Nathan Petrelli. But don't worry. He promised that even if he can't find the assassin, he'll return home as he said."

Molly nodded, and returned her attention to her paper. It was silent for several seconds until—

"The Boogeyman!" Molly yelled out. Mohinder jumped. Maya let out a soft yelp of surprise.

"It's Sylar!" Molly continued. "I've been tracking him, but I've never actually looked to see what he was doing— he's in Odessa Texas. Primitech Paper. Oh my God —"

"What is it Molly? Molly?" Mohinder's voice was frantic, concerned. Molly had tilted her head back, eyes unfocused.

"I found him . . . there's a dead man behind him . . . he's glowing. I can see . . ."

"Molly!" Mohinder shook Molly's shoulder roughly. The young girl started, staring at Mohinder intensely, no longer lost to her power. Mohinder was deeply shaken. Molly had never before demonstrated her ability to such an extent.

"Sylar looked like that man did . . . the man that they flew away into the sky to explode . . ."

Without warning, Mohinder was practically flying across the room. Molly and Maya watched with fascination as the doctor rushed to the TV, and pressed the power button. They watched as he frantically pushed buttons on the remote control. And then—

They were greeted with the boring newscasters commenting on the same old news.

"What is it, Mohinder?" Maya asked, curiosity rising.

"I think Sylar blew up Primitech. Don't try to find him Molly!" The latter sentence was rushed, and Molly was barely able to comprehend it. But, after pausing to think, she got the message.

"Anyway . . ." Mohinder continued. "This news station covers all American news. It's bound to show up eventually."

As it turned out, the trio didn't have long to wait. Only ten minutes after the TV was turned on, a picture of an explosion appeared in the upper right hand corner of the screne.

"This just in," The newscaster blared. "There has been a bombing upon a paper factory in Odessa, Texas. Though it is not clear why the building was attacked, the police report that it was indeed a bomb that sent the factory into flames, a bomb with nuclear power. There is no known terrorist group that would have cause to do this, and the chance of a single person being behind the bombing is a near impossibility. There were over two hundred employees in the building, and it is clear there are no survivors."

The newscast continued, showing footage of shattered glass and bent steel that could only be the remains of Primitech. Mohinder heard no more. No survivors . . . two hundred employees . . .

_If you hadn't refused to let Maya take down Sylar_ . . . Mohinder shook off the thought. It was for the greater good. The Company must go down. But still . . . two hundred people . . . probably all with families, maybe even blackmailed into working . . . was the total destruction of the Company and it's people really the best way to take it down? Was letting Sylar go free really the answer?

"Sylar will have discovered that the Company head is in New York. And since the boss of the Company was behind the experiments, there is no doubt that he will return here." Mohinder spoke slowly, trying to rationalize letting Sylar live. "He'll likely be able to take out the Company base here . . . then Maya, you may kill him. The head of the Company will be hardest to take out. I know other people who can manage it from there."

"Really? You'll let me get rid of him?" Maya asked, the eagerness in her voice unsettling Mohinder..

"Yes. I want as little casualties as possible, and a victory. Once the Company head is gone, we will have victory. Sylar can take down the top. And once that is done, there will be no need for Sylar's style of exploding buildings."

Maya was beyond excited, Her chance was drawing near—

"It will take him approximately three days to get here. In that time, I suggest we prepare to take him down. After he destroys the Companay, of course. We need to get a few things from my lab."

Mohinder rushed from the apartment, and it was all Molly and Maya could do to keep up.

* * *

_I'm buried alive!_ Sylar's thoughts screamed frantically. _No. No you're not._ He thought, attempting to calm himself. _You have super powers. Just shift the rubble off from on top of you. _

Easier said than done. Sylar struggled blindly in the dark remains of Primitech. He could feel the intense weight of the structure above him, feel it crushing the oxygen from his lungs. Sylar felt light headed, and noticed that his face felt abnormally wet. He could only assume his nose was bleeding. _Probably from exerting the telekinesis power_, he mused. Each time he inhaled, he smelled nothing but the acrid stench of blood.

Finally! He managed to get an iron beam to shift— only to have more debris pile on top of him. He restrained a scream as something hit him in the chest with brutal force, and continued to the floor, scraping him roughly. He mentally shoved the object away from him, gritting his teeth in frustration. _You knew this would be hard_, he reminded himself._But nothing is impossible. You're special. The most special person there is._

Sylar strained his power to the limit. The world around him shifted. Remains of the building went flying in all directions, and finally, a beam of light shown down from above. Sylar frantically clawed his way out of the rubble, using several powers along the way. At last, he reached the surface.

Sylar longed to do nothing more than lie down, and catch his breath. But he couldn't. There was a news crew covering the explosion. And he had to get back to New York. The Company knew he had powers and would be after him. He had nothing more to hide.

On one hand, that was great news. It meant he could use his powers as he pleased, and not worry about keeping a low profile to get the element of surprise. The Company knew he was coming. On the other hand, he would definitely have difficulty penetrating an advanced building, filled with special people without any surprise on his side. There would be too many people for him to handle. Yes, he was special. But even Sylar could fall victim to the power of numbers . . . or the weight of a building.

Sylar slunk, as stealthily as he could towards a car. He melted the lock mechanism using Zane's power, and entered the vehicle. It was nothing special, but it would work. It would blend in.

Sylar was about to go through the familiar process of using telekinesis to start the car without a key when he noticed something. At first, he didn't realize what he was seeing. And then it hit him. It was his reflection in the rearview mirror. And he looked terrible.

His nose had bled, and blood had painted his beard, and covered his teeth. There was a nasty gash on his forehead, and that wasn't the worst of it. As Sylar looked down at himself, he noted with shock that his shirt was splattered with blood, and had been partially ripped from his body. Whatever had hit him had done some damage.

Slowly, and hesitantly, Sylar unbuttoned the remaining buttons on his shirt, fearing what he might see. And sighed in relief. It wasn't that bad. There were minor scrapes littering his chest, and the deepest cut was only a few millimeters deep. It could've been worse.

_In the future_, Sylar promised himself, _I will not assume I have the ability to withstand a several ton building crashing down on my head. Lesson learned_. Sylar buttoned what was left of his shirt, and brought the car to life. He then began to rub the blood from his face. After all, someone would likely call the police if they saw a driver covered in blood. And he'd have to replace the shirt. It was completely trashed, and if any paranoid driver took the time to realize the stains on the shirt were blood, he'd be in for trouble. And the fact that he was covered in dirt and grime didn't help the innocent image.

Sylar reexamined himself in the rearview mirror. The blood was gone from his face. Now, for what he should do next. His plan was simple. First, he would travel as far as his tired body would allow. Then— he would take a shower. He didn't care if he had to break into a house and murder a few people to do so. All the dirt, grime and blood had to go. Then he would get new clothes to replace the blood and dirt stained old ones. As he traveled, he would avoid the police searching for the stolen car, and steal new cars as necessary. Finally, he would get to New York, and get to the Company head. Sylar found he healed quickly, so it was natural to assume that all the scrapes would be healed by the time he reached New York. And if they hadn't healed, he could always ask Mohinder for more of that healing blood.

Sylar put the car into drive, smirking slightly. That would be an interesting encounter . . . maybe he'd even have time to play cat and mouse with Maya. No matter what happened, he was certain the next few days would be interesting.

* * *

Back in New York, at Isaac Mendez's old loft, all was quiet. But all of that was about to change. The air shifted, and suddenly, two Japanese men materialized in the center of the room, right on top of the painting of the New York explosion. These men of course, were Ando and Hiro. And Ando in particular, was shocked by what he saw.

"This is Isaac's loft?" Ando asked, staring around in shock at all of the new technological equipment.

"It was," Hiro responded. "It's Mohinder Suresh's lab now."

"Mohinder?" Ando questioned.

"We met him once." Hiro answered. "Well . . . at least, I did. You only saw him briefly. In the future where New York exploded? President Nathan Petrelli ordered him to kill me. But he didn't. He believed I could change the future. So, he let me go."

"But Hiro! That never happened! He won't remember you! What makes you so sure that he'll listen to you?"

"Because Gabriel promised he would."

"Again with the Gabriel. Why are you calling Sylar Gabriel?"

"I'm not calling_Sylar_ Gabriel. I'm calling _Gabriel_ Gabriel. The man we met in the future was so far different from the Sylar we know today— they're practically different people. So therefore, the Sylar from the future's name is Gabriel. Obviously, the Sylar we know now is still Sylar. He's nothing like Gabriel, and I don't think he ever will be. Even Gabriel admitted that it was highly unlikely that he reforms. In most of the futures we're aiming for, Sylar is locked up in a lab, unchanged and insane. But he saves the world anyway. And that confuses me. But Gabriel assured me that the only reason he would save the world is if it benefited him. And that piece of reality was very much needed."

Ando was silent for several moments. "That made no sense whatsoever. So why are we here?"

"As I said, this is Mohinder's lab. He'll be arriving here soon. He should show up in three, two—"

The door opened. Hiro smiled. Ando stared at Hiro in shock.

Mohinder froze, the key to the room still in his hand. Maya peered over Mohinder's shoulder curiously, and Molly hid in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" Mohinder asked.

"Yes," Hiro answered, taking a single step forward. "My name is Hiro Nakamura. And I bring news from the future."

Molly entered the room, curiosity piqued. Mohinder stared intently. He knew the name sounded familiar. Wait . . . Peter.

"Did you tell Peter Petrelli to save the cheerleader and save the world?" Mohinder asked.

Hiro smiled. "Yes. Well . . . one of me did, but that's too confusing. I've got much more important things to explain. Um . . . you don't mind me being here, do you? We could take this somewhere else if you don't want me in your lab."

Mohinder was surprised by this sudden politeness. The man broke into his lab, then sounded almost apologetic. He was worth hearing out.

"No, I don't mind you being here," Mohinder answered.

Mohinder proceeded to approach Hiro, and Maya and Molly followed. Soon, they were all in the center of the room. Hiro took a deep breath.

"I have seen the future. And unless we do anything about it, unless you follow my orders, the entire human race will die."

"From what?" Mohinder asked in shock. "The Shanti virus?"

"I can't tell you everything," Hiro explained. "Doing so will only ensure disaster, as you try to change things you cannot effect. What I can tell you is that the Company needs to be taken down in order for the human race to survive. And, a certain person needs to live. All other events that I don't mention will play out as needed. Trust me on this."

Hiro knew he couldn't tell them that there was a chance that no matter what they did the future might end up being terrible anyway. Gabriel had shown him the results of that. And they were devastating.

"First off," Hiro continued, "Maya." Hiro turned to look at Maya directly.

"Me?" Maya asked, disbelieving. What could he want with her? This man was insane. News from then future? Saving the human race from destruction? It was all too impossible for her to accept.

"Yes, you," Hiro stated softly. "You want to murder Sylar. Gabriel Grey. You can't kill him."

"What?! How dare you—"

"Hear me out!" Hiro quickly interrupted. He knew he was treading in dangerous waters. He knew Maya had practically dedicated her life to killing Sylar.

"Sylar is essential to taking down the Company."

"Yes, I'm going to wait to get rid of him until after he takes down the base in New York. Mohinder promised me I could take care of him after that part of the Company is down—"

"Sylar will fail. In three days time, he will break into the Company base only to be captured. This _must_ happen. Don't even think about it Maya. I know you want to kill him now _before_ he enters the Company. You think there's no point in letting him live longer if he's only going to fail. But I promise you if you confront him on the streets of New York before he enters the Company, he will kill you. And apparently, that wouldn't be good."

Ando nodded in agreement. Future Hiro had told him that Maya needed to live to take the Company down. He had also been told about the volatile relationship between Maya and Sylar. And apparently, Hiro hadn't been told completely about the importance of those two characters. Future Hiro had said that young Hiro couldn't know the truth, or he would ruin everything. And Ando could believe it. Hiro could never trust the future to the unpredictable decisions of Maya and Sylar.

As Ando was lost thinking about the future, Maya was busy gaping at Hiro. Hiro had figured out her intentions before she completely comprehended them herself. Maybe he _could_ see the future . . .

Hiro now turned to Mohinder. He knew he had done all he could to keep Maya on the right track.

"Four hours after Sylar is captured, Mohinder, you will get a phone call from the Company informing you about this success. After that call, you must go to the Company base and ask to see Sylar. You will be told that a woman named Elle is visiting. You must wait until a guard passes you in the hall. Then you may enter.

"Bring some form of tranquilizer, because what you have to do next is going to be beyond difficult. You see, Sylar, being the master manipulator that he is, will have managed to convince Elle to take down the Company with him. When you enter, you'll meet a very ticked off girl with electricity powers, and a dangerous, free Sylar. Sylar won't be able to use his powers, but still, stay several feet away from him. Put Elle between the two of you if you can.

" You have to tell the pair that you know of the Company, and want to take it down as well. You must say you think there's a better chance for victory if there's more people involved. Also state that there are better ways to take revenge than just killing the boss. Say to them that there are ways to hurt the Company as much as the Company hurt the two of them.

"Sylar will want to know more. But ignore him. Focus on Elle. She has the ability to kill you. Look into her eyes, be sincere, and ask her to trust you. Say you'll explain more back at the apartment. Elle will nod. Now is your time to ask her permission to drug Sylar. Don't tranquilize him until she agrees, no matter how much Sylar is frightening you. She _will_ agree, and Sylar, because his freedom depends on her, will let you drug him. This is necessary, because otherwise, Sylar would never agree to the terms to get him out of the building, and you would fail before you started. Don't worry, Elle will come up with the plan to get out undetected.

"Anyway, return to your apartment with Sylar and Elle. The mind reader, Matt, will be waiting for you, as well as Molly and Maya. There, you must ask Matt to explore Sylar's mind, and once he's done exploring, to convince him to help you in your plan to take down the Company."

"And that plan is?" Mohinder asked, feeling nauseated with the amount of information.

"Humiliate the Company," Hiro answered. "Elle will explain how to go about that. You must work with Elle, Sylar and Maya to be successful in this venture. And Sylar must live for at least the next thirty years. I think that's all you need to know."

Mohinder blinked rapidly. The room was spinning, worse than it was when he first got that concussion from the Company thug.

"Um . . . do you by chance have that written down?"

"Yes!" Ando said, stepping forward and handing over several papers.

"I knew you'd ask that," Hiro explained. "So I had it written down for you. I have only one more thing to ask. I've got several papers that I need to deliver to a Micah Sanders. I've been ordered to ask you where he lives. Oh, and I'm to say that he lives with a girl named Monica, who can see things and then do them?"

Mohinder paused. He knew Micah from Nikki, but didn't know where he lived. But Monica . . .

"Oh! I do know her! Here, I've got the address—"

Mohinder rushed to his desk, and typed several things into the computer, and a picture of Monica appeared on the screen, along with information on where she lived.

"Thank you," Hiro said, bowing his head to Mohinder. "Good luck!" Hiro and Ando vanished.

For several moments, Molly, Mohinder and Maya were silent.

"Well . . ." Molly began. "That was interesting."

Mohinder nodded. "Very. Come on. We might as well get back to the apartment."

The trio turned to leave, but Maya's mind was troubled. Did Hiro really know what he was talking about? Could they trust him? Working with Gabriel to take down the Company was the last thing she wanted to do. Should she listen to what Hiro had to say? Was the future actually in danger?

As Maya crossed the portion of the office where Gabriel had shot her, a shiver went down her spine. Though a part of her believed what Hiro said, there was no doubt in her mind. There was no way that saving Gabriel would benefit more lives than killing him. She would play along for a while. But eventually, Gabriel _would_ die.

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, dun! This chapter mainly is serving as a way to set up the rest of the story. Finally, we'll be bringing characters together and the plot becomes more interesting. But that's my opinion. You can tell me what you think as the story progresses.

Chapter 7 preview: We catch up with Elle. There are Sylar and Elle interactions galore, and Mohinder and Sylar will be reacquainted. In other words, I can't wait to write the next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Just to warn you, this chapter is two times the length of my normal chapters. I tried to split it in half . . . but I couldn't find a good place to break. Also, no one besides myself edited the chapter this time, so if you see any obvious errors, let me know so I can fix it. Now, without further delay, Chapter 7!

**Chapter 7**

SSS

**3 days after Hiro appeared to Mohinder**

SSS

Security had to be one of the most boring jobs in all of history. Elle couldn't comprehend why no one could make it more fun. _Why do all of the cameras have to be hidden?_ Elle wondered. The job would be semi-bearable if someone mooned the camera occasionally, or at least stuck their tongue out. _That_ would be entertaining.

But no. Hour after hour was spent watching as people minded their own business, walking down the streets of New York. All streets and allies within a mile of the Company base had a camera trained on them. And after days of doing nothing but watch the boring people going about their boring lives, Elle was about to go insane.

She didn't _have_ to watch the footage, of course. It was her own choice. Ever since Sylar had escaped her clutches, her dad had done nothing but lecture her about her failure. Mohinder had said her dad would be proud, because she saved lives. But all her dad saw was that Elle had tried and failed to capture a threat to the Company. Worse than that, she had failed to capture the man the Company most needed, a powerful being, someone who held all the answers in his genetic code. Someone the Company very much wanted on their side. She had failed to catch a highly valued Company asset, and her father would never let her forget it. She could see the disappointment in his eyes. It hurt.

So Elle had made a promise to herself. She would catch Sylar. She would fix her mistake. And daddy would love her again.

SSS

Sylar prowled the streets of New York; head held high, and evil smirk in place. He had completely healed, and felt he was physically ready for battle. But on the other hand, mentally, he was unsure. He didn't completely understand what the Company was capable of. He had attacked a small portion of the Company, and he'd had surprise on his side. But now, he was heading into a facility with much better defenses, and he didn't have a single ability that they didn't know about. They would probably be prepared for an attack. So already, Sylar was at a huge disadvantage.

He had never had an enemy fully understand what they were up against. Of course, there was Isaac, knowing he would die, but that didn't count. Isaac had submitted. He had no ability to fight back. The Company wouldn't go down with out a fight. And worse, they could disable his powers. If they got that virus into him again, he was done for.

But Sylar barely paid any mind to these thoughts. They were doing nothing but holding him back. So, he strode forward in his confident façade. He was nearing the building when he caught a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He turned. It seemed impossible, but it was true. Sylar had wanted to play cat and mouse with Maya. He just never figured he would be playing the part of the mouse.

SSS

Maya had found herself incapable of staying with Mohinder when she knew Sylar was only a few blocks away. Molly had been keeping track of his movement, while the doctor reviewed the written instructions the strange Japanese man had given him.

Hiro certainly had an elaborate idea of what the future could hold. In particular, Maya remembered him saying if she were to confront Gabriel on the streets, she would die. But still . . . he was so close. The more she thought, the more she knew she could never just sit by and wait for something to happen.

So, while Mohinder was in the bathroom, and Molly absorbed in moving the pushpin across the map, Maya quietly slipped out the apartment door. She ran down the stairs, heart pounding, mind reeling with adrenaline. She was doing it. What she had been dreaming about for days. She was taking action against Gabriel. She was tracking him down.

Maya rushed onto the New York sidewalk, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the outside light. She hadn't left the apartment for so long. The loud noises of the city rushed to greet her, and Maya laughed aloud with joy. She was free to do what she wanted. Today would be her day to declare victory over Gabriel.

Of course, Maya had a plan. She had been paying close attention to Molly's map. And if Molly was accurate, as Maya was certain she was, Maya knew exactly where to find Gabriel. But then, relying on the memory of a map to navigate the streets of New York wasn't easy. But Maya would do it. She _had_ to do it. Gabriel had to be stopped.

Maya pushed and shoved her way through the dense crowds, becoming more frantic as the seconds ticked away. Gabriel wouldn't remain stationary. By the time she got to the marked spot on the map, he would be gone. She would have to predict his movements, or at the very least, be lucky.

Maya spent several minutes pushing through crowds, and crossing busy streets and then— there he was.

Maya stopped, suddenly unsure. She had been waiting for it to happen . . . and yet, to see him walking down the street like a normal person seemed so unreal. Maya had almost expected him to emanate the evil persona of the man who had shot her, the man who had killed her brother. But looking at him, he could've been your average Joe.

Maya wanted him dead. The desire to simply unleash her power on all of New York was overwhelming. She could do it. But there were too many people. Too many innocents would die. She would have to get closer.

Casting away her uncertainty, Maya edged through the crowd, keeping silent, and glaring daggers at Gabriel's back. She was getting closer. Almost close enough . . .

Gabriel stopped. Maya froze at the unexpected move. Then . . . he turned and looked straight at her!

SSS

Sylar couldn't believe what he was seeing. Maya was not only looking right at him, but she appeared to have been chasing him. Hunting _him_! Of all the nerve!

Sylar knew he didn't have time to fight her. He needed to get to the Company. That was all that mattered. But he did have to get rid of her. Then the thought came to him. He could freeze her solid. That would be fast enough. An unexplained phenomenon, no one would think to look for a human culprit. He could simply walk away. It wasn't the best way to commit murder, but it was the fastest.

Sylar raised his hand slightly, completely prepared to murder Maya within the next second, his eyes burning with hatred. _Sorry Maya_, his thoughts growled, angry with her for putting him in such a position. _I wanted to play with you, but you gave me no choice. Why must you make me hurt you?_

There was a soft eruption of blue light, as Sylar's hands dropped to freezing temperatures. Ice was on his side. Now, when no one was looking— wait, what was she doing? Sylar watched in amazement as Maya took two steps backward. She wasn't attempting to attack him?

And then she was gone. Maya had turned heel, and practically run in the other direction. Sylar lowered his hand, and it faded back to its original color. Should he chase her?

No. The Company first. Maya later. Sylar turned, and continued his journey to the Company doors, putting his encounter with Maya behind him.

SSS

**Previous scene, Maya's POV:**

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Maya raged at herself. She couldn't do it. She had been completely prepared to take Gabriel down . . . and then he had looked at her. Maya had seen the surprise in his eyes. And then . . . he had transformed into a murderous monster.

The full scope of what Hiro had said hit her then. He would kill her if she confronted him in the streets. And he'd do it without a second thought. How could murder be so emotionless to him? Even the _thought_ of killing Gabriel was emotionally taxing to Maya. But then, while she hated him, a part of her loved him as well. It's hard to hurt the ones you love. Gabriel, obviously, held no feelings for her other than hate.

She had been stupid to assume she could murder Gabriel so easily. And worse, her death had been predicted. Maya didn't want to die. She knew it would take time to build up the nerve to kill him. Time she didn't currently have. She watched Sylar raise his hand, and was amazed to see it start glowing.

But of course. He had his powers back. Maya had never seen them. She was in way over her head. There was no telling what a blue glow meant. Maya took two hesitant steps back. She watched Gabriel carefully. He seemed surprised at her action, but made no move to attack her.

That was all of the incentive Maya needed. She turned heel and fled, heart pounding, tears of anger and self-hatred running down her face. She had been foolish and naïve to assume she could take him down so easily. And even though she didn't believe for a moment what Hiro said about Sylar helping to save the world, just the thought that she could be murdering the world's only hope restrained her somewhat. She would have to wait and see how Hiro's future predictions played out. If they all started coming true . . . she may have to rethink murdering Gabriel.

But she knew she would see him again. Hiro had said they would take down the Company together. That meant they would meet again soon. And Maya desperately hoped she could restrain her murderous intentions. One thing was certain. The next few days would not be easy.

SSS

Elle sighed. Security was as boring as ever. There were so many streets to watch, so many angles to check, but always for nothing. Sylar never showed up. Although there was a rather good look-alike stalking down the view of camera five. He even had the same ridiculous ears . . .

Elle jumped, knocking the chair to the floor in her haste to get up. That man wasn't a look alike. He was the real thing. Elle took off running towards the entrance. As she ran towards the entrance, she realized she would be facing Sylar alone. Though the Company had security tapes, it was such a boring job, no one bothered to watch. Mostly, the cameras were used to spy on employees. And yes, the Company was expecting Sylar. So, to defend itself, every agent in the New York vicinity was within the building. That was over five hundred super-powered people. And all of them had been swallowed by the buildings immensity, leaving the front door open, but protecting everything important. Better to give the villain a false sense of confidence about the security. It would be easier to take him out later. There was no way Sylar could beat them all.

Because of this, Elle wasn't worried about confronting Sylar on her own. If she failed to capture him, there would be plenty of others guaranteed to succeed. And if she did capture him, she would be solely responsible, and have her dad's favor back. And if she died in the confrontation . . . she would deserve it for failing her father. She couldn't stand to see him look at her with such disappointment any longer.

It was with those thoughts in mind that Elle finally reached the front door. She began building up a blast of electricity. There was no way Sylar would knock. As she braced herself for the inevitable encounter, she smiled slightly. Finally, she was going to make her daddy proud.

SSS

Sylar stalked towards the door that he knew must belong to the Company. It was secluded in an alleyway, out of the way of the rush of people. He knew he might be signing his own death certificate by entering. But he also knew that he could never live with himself if he let the Company keep its victory. The door was quickly approaching.

Sylar readied an ice attack to freeze whoever was waiting for him inside. They probably already knew he was there. And he needed to act as quickly as possible. _Time for a dramatic entrance_, Sylar thought, trembling with excitement. Today was the day he would win, and get his revenge.

With a wave of his hand, he pulled the door towards him, off its hinges, and sent it flying into the alleyway. He was just about to release his ice power when— something hit him. Hard.

If a bystander had happened to look down the alley at that point in time, they would have had themselves committed at the mere impossibility of what they witnessed. There was a flash of light, and Sylar was picked clean off of his feet and into the air, his chest taking the brunt of the blast. His body formed an odd crescent shape, head and feet practically touching each other, bent as he traveled towards the wall at a speed nearing thirty miles per hour. Sylar was up ten feet in the air when he finally collided with the alley wall. His back hit first. Then his body unfolded, and his head met the brick with a sickening crack. The villain slid down the wall. His feet hit the ground first, but his legs buckled, and he fell face down on the concrete. He lay motionless on the ground in a crumpled heap, blood oozing through his hair. And then— he started to move.

_This can't end now!_ That was all Sylar thought, and all he heard. He placed his palms to the ground, trying to push himself to his feet. His head throbbed, and his vision began to blacken at the edges. _This can't end now!_ Anger and the fear of death pervaded Sylar's senses, rampaging through his every vein and artery, pumping his system full of adrenaline. _This can't end now! I won't _let_ it end now!_

Elle approached Sylar triumphantly. He was alive. Badly injured, yes, but alive. And she alone was responsible for the victory. Grinning from ear to ear, Elle approached Sylar, ready to collect her prize. And suddenly— she was flying.

Elle barely registered this fact when she came into contact with a wall inside the Company. Her head struck the drywall, and the room spun in protest. Elle felt sick. She had failed. _No. Not yet_, she counseled herself. _I can't let him beat me_. But that was when she noticed how hard it was to breath. She struggled to take in a breath, and found she could, but it was much too difficult. And it wasn't enough air. Elle started to hyperventilate. The room was going black. Each breath she took required a lot of energy, and what oxygen she managed to gather wasn't enough to replenish the energy she was using. Elle's stomach twisted as the enormity of the situation became clear. He was strangling her.

And then, there he was. He was sneering, glaring at her like she wasn't fit to lick the dirt off his shoes. His hand was extended towards her, and he held it as if gripping something . . . Elle realized that hand symbolized his telekinetic grip on her throat.

"You tried to kill me," Sylar spoke softly, a dark hatred dripping off each word, a hatred so powerful, that most humans would be incapable of comprehending it. He let his hand widen slightly, and Elle became less dizzy, but still found it difficult to breathe. But at least it wasn't as hard as before.

"Ah, ah, ah," Sylar scolded. "You can't die on me yet. I want information from you." He sneered, eyeing Elle with disgust. To him, she looked pathetic, no more interesting than an insect drowning in a pool. Helpless. He couldn't understand how she had managed to attack him before he had looked through the door. But she would pay for nearly beating him.

"Why did you confront me on your own?" Sylar asked in a deceivingly light tone. "Your Company probably has me classified as a psychopathic killer. They would've told you I'm too much for one person to handle. How much time do I have before security arrives?"

Elle was dazed, and weak. But she would not submit to this evil. She would show herself, and her father, that she was strong. Daddy had always said that he thought his little girl was tough. Now it was time to prove it. Sylar's grip on Elle's throat loosened ever so slightly, so as to allow her to answer. Elle summoned her energy . . . and spat at Sylar's face. And, much to Elle's delight, her aim was true.

Sylar let out an inhuman growl, and wiped his face clean with a single telekinetic wave of his left hand. Elle smirked. Sylar saw red. _No one_ treated him like that.

"You know what?" he snarled, a feral gleam in his eye. He leaned forward, and placed his face within inches of Elle's. Elle shrunk back, intimidated by the proximity of his hateful eyes. And in a voice so deep that it was almost a growl, he uttered a bone-chilling phrase.

"Your Company was right to warn you. I _am_ a psychopathic killer." The voice spoke infinite volumes of the torture Sylar had planned for Elle's future. But Elle noticed with triumph, that in his anger, Sylar had forgotten to tighten his hold on her neck. Though she was dizzy, and though it was nearly impossible to concentrate, Elle slowly began gathering electricity in her hands.

"Takes one to know one," She whispered with what air she could manage. Sylar only had time to blink in confusion. And once again, he found himself flying. The electricity was igniting his every nerve, burning him, killing him. _I underestimated the enemy . . . and I failed._ Sylar was lost to the darkness before he hit the ground.

SSS

Elle collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe. She had hit Sylar with what would have typically been a lethal blast. A stronger blast than the one she had first hit him with. Elle took in several raspy breaths, the room spinning as the oxygen rushed to her brain. Only when the room stopped spinning did Elle look up. And her heart froze with fear at what she saw.

Sylar lay motionless on the floor, head turned towards the ceiling, his lower body twisted towards the wall. His eyes were half open, and his mouth was slack. _Oh, God_, Elle panicked. _I've killed him_.

She scrambled over to Sylar, heart pounding in fear. She put hand on his wrist, feeling for a pulse. _Please don't be dead, please don't be dead_! No pulse. Elle bit her lip, frantic thoughts going through her head. _I've killed him. Now daddy's going to kill me._

Elle forced herself to take a deep breath. It was painful. After near death by strangulation, her lungs weren't used to holding so much air. She had been panicking. Perhaps she just didn't feel the pulse, in her haste?

Elle leaned forward, and placed her head against Sylar's chest. For several seconds, all she could hear were her own frantic thoughts. But Elle put her mind into a state of forced calm. For several seconds, there was nothing. Then—_Thump_.

Elle heard and felt that single heartbeat. It was by far the best sound she had ever heard, the best vibration she had ever felt. She continued to listen in her relief. She began counting pulses. It was weak, but it was there.

For once, Elle was thankful at Sylar's extraordinary skill to defy death. It had saved her from her father's wrath. Now, all she had to do was deliver Sylar to her father. But he was much to heavy. How would she transport him? And then, she got an idea.

Elle got to her feet, and traveled down the hallway. She knew there was a storage closet nearby. And at last, she finally reached it. She opened the closet doors, and after several seconds of searching, she found what she was looking for. A luggage dolly. She wheeled it out of the closet, and moved it back to where Sylar was still lying. She then began the long, painful process of hoisting his unconscious form onto the contraption. She wouldn't allow anyone else to take credit for her victory. She was going to wheel Sylar straight into the hands of her father. Elle smiled. He would be so proud.

SSS

Maya stood outside Mohinder's apartment door, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. For the third time, she reached for the handle . . . then pulled her hand away. She couldn't face Mohinder. She had done exactly the opposite of what Hiro had told her to do, and she had probably worried the doctor sick. She didn't want to explain her reasoning for going, and she couldn't bear to see him angry at her, or even frightened for her. Those emotions meant he valued her life, and cared about what she did. Knowing someone cared would make it harder to risk her life to kill Gabriel.

But still, she couldn't stand outside the door forever. She took a deep steadying breath. Time to face the music. She reached forward, and practically threw the door open in her haste to get her entry over with.

"Freeze!" Maya was startled. There was a different man in the apartment, along with Mohinder and Molly, and he had a gun pointed at her face. In her alarm, Maya quickly put her hands up over her head. She had been expecting an explosive reaction, but nothing like this.

"Matt!" Mohinder called out. "Put the gun down! That's Maya! Remember? I told you she was staying here!"

Maya let out a relieved breath as Matt lowered his gun. Mohinder was pale and frantic looking, and Molly seemed to be in shock. Maya took the time to commit Matt to memory. He was heavy set, with dark, tortured eyes. His whole stance was weary, as if he expected the sky to come crashing down at any minute.

"I thought you said she was dead?" Matt questioned Mohinder. Maya was somewhat offended. Mohinder had thought she died? Did he really think she couldn't take care of herself?

"I thought she went after Sylar. Hiro said if she confronted him, he would kill her."

"I did go after Gabriel. But I didn't confront him. So I guess it doesn't count." Maya stated, fearing a reprimand.

"I'm glad you're alright," Mohinder said softly. But why was he glad? Because Hiro said that she would work with Gabriel to save the world? Or because he cared for her as a person?

"So I suppose you'll be waiting for that phone call in four hours?" Matt asked, a note of disbelief coloring his tone. "Because the little Japanese man with messages from the future told you it would happen?"

"Yes!" Mohinder was exasperated, and obviously he had repeated this many times. "Hiro said that four hours after Sylar's capture, I would be called. As you know, Molly said he's in the Company right now. And Molly's always right."

"_Right_," Matt said, his voice cynical. "And then I just _explore_ his mind?"

"Then convince him to follow our plan, yes."

"And I'll know what I'm looking for _how_?"

"I don't know!" Mohinder snarled, throwing his hands into the air. "Use your imagination!"

Maya was quite happy to be forgotten. She settled down next to Molly by the TV. Molly's eyes were glazed, completely absorbed in the picture.

"Is that a good show?" Maya asked.

"No," Molly answered distantly. "But it stops me from checking up on Sylar every few seconds. And it helps because it makes it hard to remember the man who murdered my parents, the boogeyman, will soon be sharing this room with us. After all, Hiro said to bring him here. And I don't want to see him again in person. I wish he didn't have to live to save the world."

While she spoke, Molly's eyes had brightened with fear. But now that she no longer had to talk, she once again allowed herself to sink into a more likeable world of TV fiction. Maya followed her lead, allowing the TV to take away all of her remaining thoughts of Gabriel.

SSS

Sylar groaned. He felt slow, and sluggish. _What happened?_ He wondered. All he knew was that he ached all over. He groaned, and attempted to shift positions— only to find that he couldn't move.

Sylar's eyes shot open. He tried to sit up— only to be met by a great resistance. He stopped struggling, and took several calming breaths, trying to get his bearings. He was lying on his back, looking at a boring grey ceiling. The room was poorly lit, and from his position, he was incapable of identifying the light source. Sylar strained, barely managing to lift his head, and look down on his form.

He was lying on a metal examination table, and the force holding him in place were actually chains, made of a strong metal, and almost an inch thick. There were five of them holding him down. One about his shoulders, another across his chest, a third at the waist, a fourth about his thighs, and a fifth across his lower legs. All of them were so tight; that Sylar had no doubt his flesh was being torn open by the pressure they exerted, even as he lay still. And the Company hadn't finished yet.

Though his arms were already being held in place by the chains on his shoulders and chest, the Company had secured his wrists with individual manacles. Sylar tried to move his hands, only to find that he could barely lift them. All he could do was wiggle his fingers. Though Sylar couldn't see his feet clearly, he assumed they were restrained in a similar manner, as he couldn't move _them_ either. And to add insult to injury . . . his clothes had been swapped for a pair of white flannel pants, and a white t-shirt.

Sylar let his head fall back to the table. So, they had physically restrained him. But had they taken his abilities? Sylar tried to access Zane's power to melt the chains . . . but couldn't do it. Unlike before with the Shanti virus, he could sense his power, but it was almost as if it was being restrained from coming to the surface. Much in the same way it had been restrained in the holding cell at Primitech.

Sylar grit his teeth, feeling the world crash down around him. He had failed. He was powerless . . . helpless . . . he hated it. _BANG!_ Sylar bit his tongue in shock. He would've leapt to his feet if he hadn't been immobilized.

"Good afternoon Mr. Grey," a cold voice said from the other side of the room. Sylar turned his head. He was looking at a rather boring man, wearing a boring suit, face sporting a pair of boring glasses. Behind the man was the same blonde demon who had incapacitated him.

"My name is Sylar," Sylar snarled, offended by the use of his insignificant former name. He was a far more special being than Gabriel Grey ever had been.

"I'm sorry," the man said, not sounding sorry at all. "But I refuse to call people by a name other than the one on their birth certificate."

Sylar's anger grew as the man approached him calmly and emotionlessly. What gave the man the right to treat him like he was insignificant?! He was Sylar! He deserved respect!

And yet, Sylar was completely helpless as the man towered over him, smirking at his prone form. The situation was far worse than it had been back when he was captured in Primitech. Before, they had drugged him, and generally let him roam free. No one entered the room, and when they did, he was always in a drug-induced state of lethargy. He had been able to keep some remnants of control in Primitech. Here, he had none. The man with glasses was completely in control.

"My name is Bob," the man stated calmly. "I run this Company. And I believe you've met my daughter, Elle?"

Bob. He ran the Company. Sylar saw red, as he realized whom he was dealing with. The man in front of him, Bob . . . _He_ was the one responsible for injecting him with the Shanti virus!

Sylar wanted nothing more than to deliver a slow and painful death to the man, wanted nothing more than to delight in his pathetic screams for mercy. But if anyone had the opportunity for doing such things, it was Bob. Sylar could see it in his cold brown eyes. Bob hated him. But more than that, Bob was special. Sylar could sense it. Who knew what power the man possessed . . .

"Why did you inject me with the Shanti virus?" Sylar's voice was even and calm. But inside, he was quaking in terror. He was powerless. Anything could happen. He wasn't in control, and at the moment, he wasn't special, he wasn't powerful . . . he was a mortal man, who might be breathing his last breath.

Bob smirked, reveling in the power he had over the villain. In his smug confidence, it slipped his mind to question how Sylar healed himself, or how he even knew that he had the virus. If Bob had thought of this, he would've asked questions that would have lead to the discovery of Mohinder's disloyalty. But as it was, Mohinder was safe, for the time being.

"You should be thanking me, Mr. Grey. As soon as I realized Linderman, the old Company boss, was dead, I knew I had inherited the Company. And I knew I had to order your life to be spared. I sent Michelle to get you. The woman who can create illusions? She created the illusion that you were bleeding out onto the ground, and she dragged the real you into the sewer system. The illusion vanished. She dragged you through the muck, out another manhole, where I waited for her. The two of us pulled you into a building. _This_ building, as a matter of fact.

"But not everyone agreed with keeping you alive. So we had you moved . . . to a remote facility down South."

"Yes," Sylar couldn't help but snarl. "I had the _pleasure_ of escaping the jungle defenses. _And_ getting across the border." Bob ignored the comment.

"We performed several surgeries, trying to keep you alive. But we knew that when you awoke, you would be dangerous. So, we injected you with the Shanti virus. The idea was, that once you awoke, Michelle would gain your trust. She would placate you with illusions and fantasies. Once we were sure we could trust you, we would stage the discovering of the Shanti virus. We would say it was something you must have caught during the surgeries.

"Then, we'd miraculously discover the cure. We'd be responsible for saving your life. What we didn't realize at the time was that Dr. Suresh's blood wouldn't be enough to cure the virus . . . but it never came to that. Of course, we knew it was nearly impossible that we could trust you on our side. So there was plan B.

"We could keep you incapacitated and study you. Keep you under the influence of the virus. Because no matter what happened, we knew one thing. And it's still true now. We knew we had to have you on our side. Whether fighting for us, or providing a gold mine of genetics information, you are very important to this Company, Mr. Grey."

Bob nodded cordially. Sylar seethed with rage.

"You'll never contain me. I'm the natural progressive of the species. I am the future!" 

"Dream all you want, Mr. Grey," Bob stated, eyes glinting with power. "Heroes are a dying breed. People like you endanger the very human race. Your discovery would lead to conflict, and your existence and lethal power endangers lives. But soon, with the knowledge of your powers, we can create new technology, to replace the Heroes. And once we gather all we can, we'll find a way to eliminate powers without the death side effect.

"Of course, we'll still create new empowered people in a controlled environment. But in society? Say goodbye to your genetic code." Bob smirked, a self-satisfied smirk that sent shivers down Sylar's spine. Bob turned, and headed towards the door.

"I'll be off. Don't try to use your abilities. It'll only strain you. We have you drugged with a specific cocktail, designed to repress your powers. We would use a room to neutralize them, but those rooms are expensive to keep up, and for the short time you'll be conscious, pills are cheaper. Oh, and my daughter wants to talk with you. Play nice, Elle. And don't let him escape _again_. You're treading on thin ice. With all of your failures, you're lucky I'm letting you see him at all."

With an air of arrogance, Bob left the room, leaving Elle to do as she pleased.

SSS

Once outside the room, Bob's excitement at winning such a huge victory couldn't be contained. He smiled, a genuine smile. It was a scary sight.

There was one thing not many people knew about Bob's character. He _loved_ to brag. He loved to be on top of things, and to show the world how great he was. But, he always did so subtly. As soon as he entered his office, he punched in a phone number immediately,

There was never anyone better to gloat to about an accomplishment than to someone who failed to succeed in the same field. Which was why Bob called Mohinder. Mohinder had failed to deal with Sylar effectively. Mohinder had also said that he wouldn't hesitate to kill where Sylar was concerned.

But Bob wanted to show Mohinder what miracles Sylar could perform for the Company. He would let the doctor perform as many medical tests as he desired. And Bob would be certain to rub in that he alone was responsible for bringing in the villain, and therefore, Mohinder should worship him for providing such valuable information.

The doctor could have fun playing with his archenemy, and Bob got the chance to feel better than everyone else. _This conversation will be fun_, Bob mused.

And then, after a single ring, there was an answer.

"Hello?" Mohinder questioned.

SSS

Back in the containment room, Elle emerged from the shadows, eyes glinting furiously. Sylar eyed her with increasing apprehension. He was helpless. There were about a million ways she could torture him, and no visible ways he could fight back. Sylar figured that he had better distract her from any malicious course of action.

"What's with the chains?" He asked. "Last time they used restraints that were almost like car seat belts."

"They were going to use them again. But I convinced daddy to use the chains. They're more effective."

Elle glided across the room. She positioned herself near Sylar's head, so he could see her. She then continued to talk.

"I find the chains make you feel more helpless," Elle purred, stroking Sylar's cheek gently. Sylar fought the urge to bite her finger. She could be doing worse things. Elle meanwhile, was reveling in the feeling of power she had over him. Sylar was seething with hatred and also . . . fear. He _feared_ being helpless. She could see it.

For years, Elle's only toys had been her therapists, and the other people she worked with. She had learned to read them like books, and in time, they became inhuman. Elle no longer saw anybody as like herself. They were all things to manipulate, control, play with. She loved to provoke reactions out of them, make them fear her, love her, or hate her. It was all part of the game. And her goal with Sylar? To break him. Mentally. That was the game. And she had yet to lose.

Sylar, meanwhile, was desperately thinking of everything he knew about Elle. She was the boss's daughter. There seemed to be a conflict between them, something about letting him escape. Bob had said that Elle had failed many times, and he seemed like he was reconsidering her privileges. He was a harsh, analytical, emotionless man, and probably not a very good father. That could be used to his advantage.

Also, he noted Elle was looking at him with a sort of feral gleam in her eye, but she was also mischievous. Sylar was forcibly reminded of the emotions he felt when he was toying with his victims. She was going to play with him. Hopefully, he could beat her at her own game.

Elle looked at Sylar, ideas of exactly how to break him running through her mind. How exactly did she make him feel even more helpless? How could she possibly prove that she was the better of the two? And then an idea came to her. A perfect idea.

"You make a fun toy," Elle purred, carefully running her hand down Sylar's side. She restrained a giggle as she watched him shiver.

"Play with me, Gabriel."

"My name is Sylar," he snarled. Elle laughed flat out. Though it was impressive if you closed your eyes, the line coming from a man chained down wasn't very threatening. _Now_, Elle thought, _how do I go about this?_

Sylar watched apprehensively as Elle traveled down the metal table. What on earth was she doing? Sylar's question was answered when suddenly, Elle leapt up onto the table. His eyes widened as she carefully lifted a single leg over his form, and sat lightly upon his stomach. Elle watched with amusement as Sylar reacted drastically to her simple action.

Sylar's mind had practically exploded with emotion. She was on top of him, dominant, and he had no power, he couldn't even lift a finger in protest. All he wanted to do was shove her off. But though he once had great power, he was now incapable of the simplest of motions. For the first time in years, Sylar was feeling truly fearful. He had always feared death, but he had feared humiliation and helplessness more. Sylar lifted his head to face Elle, who was proudly straddling him.

"Get the hell off of me," he hissed.

Elle grinned, watching the villain. He was so terrified, so tiny and weak. It was highly amusing. She leaned forward, until she was practically lying down on top of him. Sylar stiffened, as her face got closer, and eventually, all he could see were her mischievous eyes.

"No," She said. Her voice was soft, but defiant, and Sylar couldn't take it.

He began to struggle. He knew it looked pathetic, and he made no progress. Not only was it embarrassing, but his inability to do anything drove him into a deep panic. He was vulnerable. Shame and embarrassment at being so thoroughly defeated added to his fear. His mind was screaming, but there was nothing he could do. Elle could do anything she wanted, and he would be incapable of stopping it.

Her form pressed into his, making him all the more aware of her dominant presence. It was the ultimate humiliation, both in her position, and his lack of power. Never before had Sylar felt such a fear, or felt so unable to do the simplest of things, such as pushing her away. Her ability to get close frightened him; her ability to defy him was such a reminder of his lack of power that it nearly drove him to tears.

Sylar could feel his world of power and dominance crashing down around him. He was a nobody, and worse than that, he was a helpless nobody. His mind screamed for action, but he could do no more than struggle to move. His body screamed for dominance, and yet he was stuck in the most embarrassing position ever. How _dare_ she got on top of him? The very action set shame and embarrassment deep into his soul. He couldn't help himself, and he was worse off than Gabriel Grey ever had been.

It had gotten to a point where all of the feelings had become so intense, that it was physically painful to bear them. His mind was in a heightened stage, and nothing could be done with the energy. The stress and adrenaline had to be released somehow.

Elle watched with amusement. She could see the fear in his eyes. He was breaking fast. And then— a single tear leaked from his right eye. An explosion of joy welled up within Elle at that accomplishment. Her disgust at straddling the serial killer was forgotten in that single moment. She had made the man the Company feared most _cry_.

"_Awwwe_, you're crying!" She cooed.

Sylar was horrified as this was brought to his attention. Sylar could do nothing as tears of shame and humiliation joined the tear of helplessness. He hated this. He hated her. But even more than that, he hated himself for being so weak, for failing at being _anything_.

"Don't worry, baby Gabriel," Elle cooed in a baby voice. "I'll kiss it and make it better."

And suddenly, she was closing the small gap between their faces. Sylar tossed his head to the side. But it was futile. Elle simply grabbed his head roughly, and forced her lips upon his. And then— Sylar felt the pain of electricity ripping through his body, starting from his lips, and burning his extremities. And it wasn't the sort of fun electricity they spoke of in romance novels. He vaguely thought he heard laughter, but he couldn't be certain.

But if he had been able to focus, he would've found that he was correct. Elle was laughing hysterically as she watched his body convulse with the electrical input. It was even better than the kiss she had with Peter. She had more dominance, more electricity, and more control with Sylar. That was how Elle liked it. She slid off the villain, job complete. Sylar slowly stopped twitching, but he was still breathing heavily and trembling, tears flowing from his eyes.

Elle leaned forward to whisper in his ear. It amused her more that he didn't pull away. He had lost all hope of winning.

"You really thought you could beat me?" She laughed.

The soft whisperings of anger began to penetrate Sylar's self-made wall of humiliation and fear. No one beat him. He was Sylar, even without the power. He would show her yet. He had one last chance. Though he didn't have the ability to see how things worked at the moment, you can't unlearn years of observing people. And Sylar figured that he would be able to figure out, power or not, what made her tick.

"You're a fool," Sylar snarled confidently. "You like to play games? Have you ever had a true toy? Ever had a friend?"

Elle's eyes darkened. He would not play with her. That wasn't how the game worked.

"I'm betting the Company has controlled your every action since day one. Decided whether you had friends, ordered you about to better the business. But you've been failing. And daddy hates it. He sees you as an embarrassment. And I bet if he wasn't worried about how it would make him look, he would off you in an instant." Sylar's tone was hushed, deadly. Elle felt fury bubble to the surface.

"You're wrong. Daddy would never hurt me. I've screwed up, but I made things right again."

"Have you?" Sylar questioned, pausing to let her think. Elle shuddered. She didn't want to think of such things. But her father had still been giving her the cold shoulder. It was as if she could never make up for it.

"Are you sure he wouldn't hurt you?" Sylar prodded, almost gently. "How did he discover your power? How has he made you use it since?" Sylar let a gap of silence stand between each question.

"If your father valued your life, he would keep you out of the Company affairs. I know you can look after yourself . . . but what did it take you to get to that point?" Sylar looked straight at the ceiling. He could tell from Elle's audible increase in breathing rate that she was either very angry with him for saying such things, or horrified as she came to terms with reality. Sylar would lose his nerve if it was the former reason.

"My daddy loves me, Gabriel," Elle finally hissed. "Yes, he's done some things that I don't like. But he helped me realize my potential! He took care of me when other people would have had me killed!"

Sylar began to laugh. The laugh was insane, and derived from all of the stress he had been put under. The lack of humanity in it was bone chilling, and the hysteria within each syllable made Elle want to cover her ears.

"You're right Elle. Other people would've killed you. My mother tried to kill me when she realized what I was. But what are we? We're special. Better than everyone else. We can do things the world is incapable of. The Company, your _father_, is only interested in using us. You said your father helped you realize your potential. But I ask you, how can your potential be realized if you have no free will, and have to do exactly what daddy says?

"You don't see the way your father looks at you. Love and respect for him has blinded you. Rid yourself of these emotions. They will only deceive you. He looks at you like a prize, as a way to prove himself. When you fail, he fails. And I've seen something in him. He cannot cope with failure. When a person fails too often, they quit, or try a different method, one less likely to fail. If push comes to shove, he will rid himself of you, and opt for something with a higher success rate. He may kill you, have you killed, or simply send you into exile, in order to free himself from failure.

Your power is his pride. He looks at you as a way to prove himself and the Company. But when he decides to get rid of you . . . what kind of father is that?"

Elle's eyes were wet with restrained tears. Even if Sylar was toying with her, the words were hitting home. They rang true. Elle could feel it. She knew her father didn't tolerate failure. And she had seen the disappointment in his eyes when she failed turn into something like hatred. Less than a week ago, he had graced her with an expression that he usually used on old employees right before he shot them through the heart.

"Shh, don't cry," Sylar purred. _He's beating you_, Elle's thoughts protested weakly. _He's just trying to get free. Don't listen._

But no matter what she told herself, she needed a friend right now. She was alone, and she had known it for quite some time. Sylar's words just had to bring the thoughts to the surface.

"You deserve better," Sylar comforted. "You're better than this Company. You can fight back. Just take it down. Be independent. Prove you're worth your father's attention by proving you're better than everyone in the facility that he created. It's hard for people to understand sometimes what it's like to have no one appreciate you for who you are. But I understand." And Sylar did. And as the truth rang out, Elle almost felt connected for the first time in her life. _Is this what it's like to have friends?_ She wondered.

"Take down this Company. I believe in you, even if your father doesn't."

Sylar's words were like poetry to her ears. For once, someone believed in her, trusted her to do well. For the first time, Elle no longer felt alone. Yes, Sylar was being manipulative. She could see that he was saying everything in hopes that she'd let him go. And yet, despite this . . . Elle knew that he truly believed that she had the power to take down the Company. And the more she thought, the more she realized that it was a good idea. She would let her dad live, of course. She could never kill him. But she would show him the damage. She would laugh in his face as he cried over his defeated kingdom. She would've beaten him, and with that victory, she would no longer crave his respect. She would no longer depend on it to make her happy, because respect from someone beneath you is expected, not craved. After her victory, he would respect her and hate her. And Elle would welcome it. Because she knew she hated him, and the more she thought, she realized she had hated him for a long time. Was it possible to both love and hate someone? Apparently, it was. Elle was proving that. Yes, she would take down the Company. But she would need help.

"Sylar," purred, using his preferred name, both in defiance of her father, and to show that she was being coaxed over to his side. Elle crossed the small room, and took a single key off the hook on the shelves. She approached Sylar once more, dangling the key in his face.

"This key," she stated softly, "Will unlock all of the chains. But before I free you, and before we attempt to take out this building, I need to know something. How badly do you want the Company to go down?"

"I'd cut off my right hand if I thought it would ensure my victory," he snarled.

"Would you listen to what I say? Be part of a team?"

Sylar hesitated before answering. "I can do that. But that works both ways. You have to listen to me as well."

Elle smiled at him, hatred at him disappearing. She had only hated him because he signified her failure to meet her father's demands. But now that she wanted to beat her father, and now that she was determined to kill her craving for his respect, there was no need to hate Sylar anymore. He had been a fun toy, but now he was an ally. Elle would have to avoid all temptation to break him down once more. Now was the time to fight.

Elle began inserting the key into various locks. One by one, the chains fell away. Sylar sat up, triumphant. He got to his feet slowly. The room rocked ever so slightly. Elle noticed his unbalance.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "Because if you're not in top form, there's no point in continuing."

"I'll be fine," Sylar snarled. "I just have to get these pills out of my system. I'm powerless, incase you hadn't noticed."

"Well, you were given a low dosage, and it's been four hours since they drugged you . . . so you should be up and running in about two hours. But until then, we'll need somewhere to hide you."

Elle was just about to continue with her plan when the door flew open. She held up a glowing fist, but lowered it when she saw it was Dr. Suresh.

"Mohinder?!" Sylar asked shocked.

"Yes, he works here," Elle answered, barely fazed. "Close the door behind you." Mohinder complied quickly. Elle smirked.

"But Dr. Suresh, why did daddy let you in? It's obvious you've betrayed the Company. You didn't tell anyone Sylar had his powers back. But you had to know. You carried the only cure, and you needed it to cure a victim of the virus. You definitely would've noticed if the only way to save someone's life disappeared from under your nose."

Mohinder blinked in shock at Elle's ability to be intuitive when the need arose. Sylar was still trying to digest the info that Mohinder was working for the organization that drugged him. But Mohinder hadn't known of the deed. Sylar had seen it in his eyes.

"I— I'm here to take down the Company," Mohinder faltered. It had thrown him seeing Sylar dressed in white. It was unnatural. "I know that I can't do it on my own," Mohinder continued, "so I was going to resort to getting help anywhere I could . . ."

Sylar was giving Mohinder a death glare, but Elle seemed interested.

"And I was thinking—" Mohinder continued hesitantly, "That there are better ways of destroying the Company than just taking down the boss. Better ways for you to get revenge, Sylar, and better ways for me to destroy the organization completely."

"What better way is there than a massacre?" Sylar asked with a growl, but with curiosity in his eyes. Mohinder ignored him, as Hiro had said to. He focused on Elle. Thankfully, she was naturally between him and Sylar. Mohinder didn't want to get any closer to Sylar than he had to.

"Elle . . . I can understand why you want revenge, and why you want it immediately. Your father isn't the nicest sort, and he has used you in more ways than even you are aware of. He's had countless experiments performed on you at your own expense. But there are ways to take down the Company more efficiently . . . more completely . . . to not only right personal wrongs, but to even play the hero to the world."

"Play the hero?" Sylar became infuriated at this sentence. Who did Mohinder think he was? Sylar strode forward, about to punch out the doctor and take down the Company, powers or not, when Elle stopped him.

Sylar stepped back two steps, reeling from the light shock of electricity he had just received. What was up with Elle? Was he losing his influence over her? The memory of the emotional encounter between Elle and himself was already fading into the distance, calm, rational emotions making it unreal.

Mohinder tried not to laugh at Sylar's expression of surprise. He continued to look straight at Elle.

"Trust me, Elle. You know I'm right. You have always played the villain. But now's your chance to be a hero . . . and get revenge along the way. I've got a plan that will not only destroy but _humiliate_ the Company."

Elle's eyes were shining with such intensity that Mohinder wouldn't have been surprised if reality had suddenly gone anime. Even Sylar had dropped his hostile expression. Mohinder could almost hear the gears turning in the psychopath's head as he thought over the idea of humiliation. Sylar took a small step forward.

"If I could humiliate the Company as they humiliated me . . . Well . . . what's your plan, doctor?"

"I'll explain more back at my apartment."

"And just how do you suppose we'll get there, with me being a prisoner and all?" Sylar asked, mocking Mohinder's lack of thought.

"He'll kidnap you of course," Elle answered. "It won't take my father long to figure out you're not loyal, Mohinder. When he realizes Sylar's missing, you'll be the first suspect. What are you supposed to be doing?"

"Running tests," Mohinder answered.

"Well then, you'll say you're running some test, and no one can enter Sylar's room for several hours or the results will be compromised."

Mohinder couldn't help but admire Elle's cunning. Obviously, he'd have to make it sound more complicated than that, so Bob would believe it, but it should work.

"I've brought a tranquilizer . . ." Mohinder told Elle, reaching into his medical bag and bringing out a small dart. "It's supposed to be fired out of a tranquilizer gun . . . but I figured Sylar would let me inject him willingly once it's established that we're on the same side.

"No! I will not allow you to _drug_ me Mohinder. We all know how well it turned out last time!"

"I don't trust you not to nuke the whole building!" Mohinder explained, as calmly as he could. "I assume you're under drugs to suppress your powers, but there's no telling how long they'll last. We have to sneak you out, in who knows what manner, and if you don't agree, all I've worked for will come to an end. You'll _have_ to agree to any method of escape if you're unconscious!"

"Trust is very important in a team. And you and I have none of it. Already, your plan has failed," Sylar growled. He looked murderous. The last time Mohinder had seen Sylar that mad, Sylar had begun slowly torturing him, and Mohinder had no doubt he would've died if Peter hadn't entered the room. But Mohinder remembered Hiro's words, so he focused on Elle.

Elle had an unusually contemplative expression on her face. After several moments of silence, she finally spoke.

"As insane as it sounds . . . Mohinder, I trust you. But, if your plan is nothing more than crap, I _will_ kill you, and Sylar and I _will_ take down the Company _our_ way." She glared at Mohinder meaningfully. Mohinder nodded.

"Understood."

"Go ahead and drug him," Elle said carelessly. Sylar stiffened. That was it. Elle was in charge, and once she had decided, there was no point in refusing. He was still powerless, even if he wasn't chained down. There was no way he could do anything on his own. He _needed_ Elle on his side.

Sylar glared as Mohinder approached him. The doctor had fear written all over his face. Sylar had to resist the urge to break Mohinder's previously broken nose. Though it looked much better than it had, the tape was still in place, and there was still bruising.

At last, Mohinder made it around to Sylar. With a single fluid motion, he drove the needle into Sylar's neck. He left the needle there.

"Just like old times," Sylar whispered. "But it hurts less . . ."

Sylar made a move to remove the tranquilizer dart, but his hand stopped mid motion. He swayed on his feet, eyes glazing, closing ever so slightly. Mohinder placed his arms under Sylar's arms in the nick of time. Sylar had completely collapsed, and it took all of Mohinder's strength to keep him from hitting the floor. It would be pointless to let Sylar injure himself in the fall if they were to be working on the same side.

Mohinder lowered the serial killer to the floor as quickly as he could without injuring him. The doctor didn't want to be close to Sylar for any longer than necessary. Mohinder backed up until he was next to Elle. For several seconds they did nothing but watch Sylar breathe. Mohinder was shaken by the lack of evil in the unconscious form. It was unnatural, and put Mohinder ill at ease. Finally, the doctor managed to speak.

"He shouldn't wake up for several hours. It took me forever to find a human tranquilizer that would put him out, but wouldn't kill him . . . in the end; I had to steal from the Company stores. I should've known they'd have something like that. So, Elle . . . any plans for getting him out of here?"

SSS

A/N: THE WRITER'S STRIKE IS OVER!!! That means Heroes can come back! I can't wait. And I love this chapter and I hope it wasn't too long or anything. And I have no idea how long chapter 8 will be. The outline alone is three pages. But all I can really say is that Matt gets to use his mind reading abilities. And on a final note: Happy Valentine's Day.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: It's arrived! Chapter 8. Thank you for being so patient. And thank you for following and reviewing my story. Words cannot even begin to describe how much I appreciate your support. I wrote a general thank you to all reviewers on my author page, but it doesn't seem like enough. I could write thank you a hundred times and it still wouldn't be enough. I like reviews, but don't be afraid to send me constructive criticism too. But now, enjoy Chapter 8!

**Chapter 8**

"Vacation?" Bob asked his daughter with disbelief. "Who gave you the right to take a vacation?"

Elle pouted. It was a skill she valued. But her father was never moved by it. Mohinder stood awkwardly in the back of the room. Besides him was an odd sort of cart with various luggage bags piled on top of it. The cart was a five-foot long, three-foot wide slab of metal on wheels, with an extension that you could grab onto to control the cart. As for the luggage, there were twenty bags in total, including a large blue one, which Mohinder could have easily fit inside. Before Elle had shown him the bag, Mohinder hadn't realized duffle bags of such sizes existed.

"Come on daddy," Elle whined. "I've been nothing but trouble. You said so yourself. You know what you're doing. Why can't I leave? Look,"

Elle motioned to the luggage. "I'm already packed! And— huh, I don't remember that one. What's in it?"

Elle had motioned to the largest blue bag. Mohinder raised his eyebrows.

"Your sports equipment. You _have_ to remember. I spent ten minutes packing it with tennis racquets and the like. But if you don't want it, I'll get rid of it. There's too much extra weight on this cart."

"No, it's fine, keep it," Elle stated, looking slightly puzzled. But her confusion disappeared as she turned to her father. "Can I go?" she asked once more.

"Oh, alright!" Bob snapped. "I assume you're going someplace warm?"

Elle nodded enthusiastically. "Florida! It'll be such a fun drive, so many places to stop!"

Bob nodded. "Make sure to wear sunscreen."

Elle rolled her eyes. "Yes daddy."

"Bob," Mohinder interrupted, stepping forward. "There is a reason for me being here, besides helping your daughter with her luggage. I wanted to see if Sylar is naturally resilient to infection and disease. So, I injected him with a mild bacteria. Nothing remotely harmful, just a foreign object his body will want to get rid of. In twelve hours, I can take a sample of his blood, and get an idea of how many antibodies he formed, white blood cells, and the like. It should give us a better understanding of how he works.

"Unfortunately, any stress weakens the immune response and will give me inaccurate results. To ensure that he isn't bothered, I have already told security not to disturb him for the next twelve hours."

"Are you telling me," Bob asked dangerously, "that I cannot enter his room for twelve hours?"

"Yes," Mohinder stated calmly. "The results will be very helpful. It will tell us how far we can push without killing him. It will quicken your experimental process, and the data gathered may even be beneficial to the human race in the future."

"Very well," Bob sighed, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "My staff and I won't disturb him. Now, out of my sight."

Elle opened the door, and Mohinder, pushing his luggage cart, left. Neither Elle nor Mohinder spoke a word until they had wheeled the luggage cart outside. Elle lead the doctor through the ally, and to a nearby parking garage. If anyone stared at the ridiculous amount of luggage, Elle and Mohinder didn't notice, as they focused on reaching their goal.

And at long last, they reached the garage and Elle's minivan. Elle explained that she used the minivan for vacations, as it held more luggage. Mohinder was panting in exhaustion by the time Elle opened the side door.

"Pipe down, Mohinder," Elle ordered. "You sound as if you're dying!"

"Cart or not," Mohinder panted, "Sylar's heavy. Help me with this," he pleaded, tugging at the large blue bag. Together, the pair hoisted the bag into the air, and, taking small baby steps, carefully maneuvered it into the side door. The minivan sat seven people, the middle row only having two seats, divided by a path to the back. It took extraordinary teamwork to move the bag through this path, and onto the back seat. Since the back seat sat three people with no gaps, it was perfect to lay the large bag upon.

"Unzip it," Mohinder ordered. "Even though his heart and breathing rate have slowed, doesn't mean he can survive on limited oxygen forever."

The bag only was only slightly open, the zipper pulled back maybe two inches. The pair couldn't risk a larger opening, for fear anyone would see what was within. Elle pulled the zipper the rest of the way. And there he was.

Sylar was breathing softly, almost as if in a peaceful sleep. His knees were folded into his chest, and his arms were at his sides. Mohinder was relieved to see that the villain was unharmed. The pair exited the van, and Elle began loading the other suitcases into the trunk.

"How did you think to put Sylar in a luggage bag?" Mohinder asked Elle curiously.

"I wheeled him to my dad on a luggage dolly. Putting him in a luggage bag wasn't a far stretch. Then I had to set it up so it looked as if you had opportunity to smuggle him out in my luggage. Marvelous acting, by the way," Elle said, smiling at Mohinder.

"You'd be the first one the Company would suspect of Sylar's escape, even without my help. And here's the best part about the set up. The Company thinks you're working alone. They won't expect me to be helping you, and surprise is always an advantage. Also, they'll be searching for your car, or some car registered under your, or a friend's, name. They won't be looking for mine.

"And then there's the security video. It will show you helping me pack in my room. It won't have our conversation. All they'll see is me leaving for the bathrooms, and you hightailing it with my luggage and an empty blue duffle bag to Sylar's quarters. There's no camera within Sylar's room, but they'll see you emerge from it with a full duffle bag, and then come to meet me outside my father's office. They'll see that I don't notice the bag, as I have so much stuff already. So that was set up perfectly.

"Once the Company realizes Sylar has disappeared, they'll come to your apartment. They'll find it empty; the blue luggage bag Sylar's currently in will be stashed in your bedroom. My father will put two and two together, assume that you were behind the kidnapping, 'figure out' how you did it— and the Company will go on a wild goose chase, not knowing what they're looking for!"

Elle grinned. "It's perfect! But there's only one problem. Both you, and the luggage bag cannot be seen in my van. My van cannot be seen near your apartment. I'm going to park several blocks away. You're going to have to carry Sylar to your home. I'll hide the car, then head to your place . . . incognito! Isn't this exciting!"

Mohinder groaned. Sylar was heavy enough on wheels. Carrying him in the bag would be ten times as hard. But there was nothing he could do. The cart wasn't exactly portable.

"I'll leave the cart in the garage. Someone will pick it up eventually," Mohinder sighed. "Do you know my address?"

"Of course!" She smirked, heart already pounding with the excitement of adventure. "Now get in the back, and duck down. We've already wasted too much time talking.

SSS

Matt was pacing the room of Mohinder's apartment, trying to get rid of his anger. How _dare_ Mohinder bring back the man who hurt Molly? Who hurt _him_?! And Mohinder expected Matt to just accept Sylar, and _explore his mind_. What the heck did that mean? Maybe he was meant to find Sylar's weaknesses, so Sylar would be less likely to kill them. Or maybe, he was supposed to find Sylar's strengths, so they could utilize them. Or maybe he was just supposed to be lead by simple curiosity.

Whatever the case was, Matt didn't want to do it. He didn't want to touch the mind of a man so monstrous. But perhaps . . . Matt _did_ want to understand what had made him so evil. He wanted to know more of the man who had destroyed so many lives. So maybe, he was supposed to let his curiosity drive him after all.

Matt turned to observe Molly and Maya. The pair was seated in front of the TV, their eyes glazed, unthinking. Matt could tell. He read minds. And he envied them. He wished that he could escape the dark reality of life, but when _he_ stopped thinking, the wandering thoughts of other people filled his empty head. It was quite annoying. Matt could never truly relax.

And then— there was a knock on the door. It was such a light tap, that Matt wasn't sure whether or not he had actually heard it. But there it was again.

Matt cautiously approached the door, looked through the peephole, and was relieved to see Mohinder. A part of him had thought the doctor wouldn't make it out in one piece. After a short struggle with the lock, Matt finally wrenched the door open. But Mohinder didn't enter as expected.

Mohinder stood there, bent over with fatigue. His dark face was pale, his chest heaving as he took rapid breaths. His usually wavy hair was plastered to his face with sweat. On the floor beside him rested a blue duffel bag.

"Where's Sylar?" Matt asked.

Mohinder tried to form a word, but all that escaped him was a weak gasp. He motioned weakly to the bag on the floor. His arms were trembling, and his eyes glazed over. Matt's brow wrinkled with worry as he realized Mohinder was swaying on his feet.

"Here," Matt said softly, pulling the doctor into the apartment, and gently maneuvering him onto the couch. He watched with increasing worry as Mohinder continued to gulp down air, eyes blank, frame sagging.

"Maya!" Matt called to the Hispanic girl. The name was unfamiliar, and Matt hated relying on people he didn't know. But now was the time to make exceptions. "Get him water!" he ordered.

Without looking to see if Maya had complied, Matt approached the duffel bag.

"Careful," Mohinder spluttered weakly. "Don't drag it . . . pull wrong, and you could injure him. Just get him inside the door."

Matt did as he was told. He only had to carry the bag a few feet, but already he was tired. Humans were not meant to carry each other. Once the bag was inside the apartment, and safely lowered to the ground, Matt shut the door. The bag was slightly open, about five inches, to allow air in.

Maya had gotten Mohinder a glass of water, and the doctor sipped from it gratefully. "I had to carry him six blocks," Mohinder whispered. He let out a feeble laugh. "And the bag had to be high enough so no one could look down into it. The first block was OK. The second was a struggle. The third— torture. The fourth— murder. And still, I couldn't put him down, for fear of discovery. The fifth . . . if it's possible to die with each step, I did it. By the sixth . . ."

Matt thought for a moment that Mohinder had passed out. The doctor had put his head back, eyes closed. But he resumed his speech.

"I don't remember the sixth very well. I think I was on the verge of passing out. But I got him here. That's all that matters. You might want to open the bag, and let him breathe. He should be out for another hour or so. It'd be better to invade his mind while he's subdued."

The doctor fell silent, drinking his water. Matt approached the bag apprehensively. It was like facing his nightmare. Could he look calmly upon the face of the man who had shot him?

Matt didn't bother to waste any more of his time on such worthless thoughts. He grabbed the zipper, and opened the bag the rest of the way. For a moment, Matt struggled to recognize Sylar. The man curled up in the bag had none of Sylar's threatening presence for one thing. For another, he was wearing _white_. White didn't suit Sylar. The strangeness of the situation was enough to make Matt hesitate. Now what?

"Is he breathing?" Mohinder asked, eyes half closed. "I couldn't stop people from hitting him. It's not like New York has spacious sidewalks. Everybody hits everybody. And I knocked him against a shopping cart at some point."

"He's definitely alive," Matt stated, eying the villain with disgust, resisting the urge to kick him. Sylar had killed so many people. What gave him the right to defy death? Abandoning the fruitless train of thought, Matt instead contemplated how he would proceed. Matt had to admit to himself that he was curious . . . and he probably would have tried to enter Sylar's mind even without orders . . . he just wouldn't have probed as deep.

"I hate to ask you to move Mohinder, but if I'm going to invade his mind, as you want, we're going to need some space. I'd like to set him on the couch, since he obviously can't hold himself up. For myself, I'll just move one of the kitchen chairs."

Mohinder said nothing, but moved to abandon his place on the couch. Matt watched as the doctor simply sat down next to Molly by the TV. Briefly, Matt considered ordering Mohinder to lie down someplace. But Matt knew the doctor. He would refuse to leave the room, in case he was needed. Now all that was left to do was lift Sylar out of the bag . . .

Matt awkwardly wedged his hands beneath Sylar's arms and lifted up. Sylar's torso emerged from the bag, his head lolled back, eyes opening slightly to reveal only white. Matt shuddered. And suddenly, Maya was at his side. Silently, the girl disentangled the bag from Sylar's feet.

"Can I help?" the girl spoke softly.

"Um . . . sure. Just grab his legs."

Together, the pair lifted Sylar and deposited him on the couch. Matt noted Maya's strange expression. She seemed to be in deep thought. But Matt, for once, didn't intrude. He knew that he needed to focus on the task at hand.

SSS

Maya didn't completely understand why she was moved to help Gabriel. But just seeing him defenseless and unconscious moved her. The caregiver within Maya needed to help, and apparently, that need to help people extended even to Gabriel.

As soon as Matt turned his back to get a chair from the kitchen table, Maya gently closed Gabriel's eyes. He looked wrong, somehow, the way he was. Maya expected and _needed_ him to radiate power, to put her at ease. He had always been the strong one on their journey to America. She didn't trust her behavior around Gabriel, with him in such a prone state. On one hand, it moved her more than ever to kill him while she had the chance. On he other hand, it almost made her forget why she hated him, and in the absence of hate, love could grow. Maya didn't want it to get to that point.

SSS

Matt returned, chair in hand. He dropped the chair in front of Sylar's head, and sat down, facing the villain. Time to get his task over with.

Matt focused, and threw himself into Sylar's mind. The room began to fade the more Matt concentrated, and soon, the mind reader had deposited enough of his mind into Sylar's to see a physical manifestation of the man's consciousness.

Matt had only done this once before, when his father had Molly in his clutches. But now the skill was being exercised again. Yet . . . it was different. Last time, his father had been dictating what he saw. This time, a mind was revealing itself to him, untouched by any manipulation.

And slowly, an image appeared. The image was nothing more than a representation of Sylar's conscious mind, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. Matt found himself standing in a giant dome shaped building. Though all the walls were ornate and beautifully crafted, they were colorless. Around him were nondescript people bowing down, as if in worship. They were frozen in place.

_Weird_, Matt thought. He turned to see what they were bowing towards . . . and almost laughed aloud. What he saw was a giant black throne, and seated in it, was Sylar.

_Does he believe this is reality? That people worship him?_ Matt wondered. _Or is this the reality he hopes to achieve?_

Cautiously, Matt approached Sylar. Though the figure on the throne wasn't the real deal, Matt hadn't explored all of the possibilities of mind reading. For all her knew, Sylar could still hurt him. But as he approached, he realized that Sylar was sleeping. Of course. He was unconscious. His conscious mind wouldn't be doing much.

"Sylar?" Matt asked hesitantly. The man grunted, opening an eye blearily.

"Do I know you?" he slurred.

"We've met, but never spoken," Matt answered truthfully.

"You tried to shoot me," Sylar mused, voice soft. "I taught you a lesson. What's your name?"

"Matt Parkman," was the reply. Sylar nodded groggily in acknowledgement.

"Why are you here?"

"Curiosity," Matt answered. "I'm fascinated by how things work. By how you work. And you have all the answers."

_So, he wants to know how I work?_ Sylar silently mused. He knew that it couldn't be healthy to have a foreign entity within his mind. He had to make him leave. And what better way to make someone leave than to make them fear staying? But first, to answer his question . . . and scare him a little.

"How things work is my specialty," Sylar said, a small grin on his face. "But it is only the beginning of my power."

And then, out of the shadows, stepped another man. The man looked like Sylar, but he wasn't. Not really. The man he was looking at was completely unimpressive. He had neatly combed hair, a face free of stubble, and clothes that looked like they came straight from the fifty's. To top it off, he was wearing a pair of ridiculous glasses, with various magnifiers attached.

"My name is Gabriel Grey," the man said sadly. "I am everything that is human and weak. Sylar is what I become to do what is necessary to evolve. The emotions of me, a mere human, get in the way of what has to be done."

"There are certain things you have to cast aside to evolve," Sylar whispered. "But when not in the act of committing murder, I allow Gabriel's emotions to come back. I do enjoy feeling, occasionally, something besides anger, hate, and a lust for power."

And then, the two spoke in unison. "All I ever wanted is to be special. And I am achieving my goal, person by person. You fail to realize how far I have come, what I have learned. You will see. I can see, in your eyes, that you don't fear me. You should. You will understand how much more powerful I am than you, and how the process of getting to this point is irreversible. I'll _make_ you understand that it's impossible to defeat me. Then, all you'll be left with is fear."

Matt understood what he was seeing. And it _wasn't_ a personality disorder. The man calling himself Gabriel was really a representation of all the emotions the man as a whole considered worthless, and harmful. The man who called himself Sylar was the conscious mind always operating Sylar's actions. But the Sylar persona didn't contain enough emotion to be considered human. He was incomplete. He had shoved certain emotions aside to deal with his life. It was a shame he had repressed the emotions of 'Gabriel' so completely. He no longer even considered them a part of himself.

Matt wasn't sure how he understood this. It was a strange sort of intuition that allowed him to interpret things much easier. But suddenly, his question was being answered.

"You understand how things work," the pair explained, "Because in my mind, I see how everything works. And while you're here, so can you. And yes, I can understand your thoughts. We are all thoughts here."

Then, Gabriel spoke on his own. "And I don't use my original power often enough, for the right reasons. There is so much I can expand on—"

And suddenly, Gabriel disappeared, obviously banished by Sylar, who didn't want to hear such things. Matt knew Gabriel's thoughts had been forced into the subconscious mind, an area in which all thoughts, appreciated or not, existed. That was where Matt would go next.

The room shifted. And suddenly, Matt found himself in a shop, filled floor to ceiling with watches. The room was painted black, and with nothing but the sound of ticking clocks, it was a bit overwhelming. The subconscious contained every thought, and therefore displayed all elements of a person's nature. Which was why Matt was surprised to see a setting that had so little evidence of the man he knew as Sylar. Was Sylar a complete façade?

In this room, the way Sylar's mind had manifested was different, so as to portray his complete nature. Unlike the conscious mind, which only contained the thoughts he _wanted_ to think, the subconscious included _all_ thoughts, even thoughts Sylar may've never realized he had. So therefore, what Matt was seeing was a representation of who Sylar _was_, unlike the conscious mind which showed how he _saw_ himself. That was why Matt was surprised to see that though Sylar looked like he had on Kirby plaza, he was wearing the glasses of his watchmaker self. He sat in a chair behind a desk, looking bored.

"I'm not special enough," he informed Matt. "No matter how hard I try, I'm still just a watchmaker. In the physical world, however, I am special enough to beat you."

Sylar waved a hand through the air, and the desk was cleared of clocks. Ah. Telekinesis. Matt was relieved that some trace of Sylar remained besides the clothes. He wasn't sure he could deal with a setting that in no way represented the serial killer he knew.

Matt wondered how he should proceed. He could see paths leading to millions of different memories. He knew that he could navigate them himself, and find out whatever he wanted. But Matt also understood that Sylar was capable of forcing him out. Matt could only assume this knowledge came from Sylar's strange mind. Perhaps it was better to let Sylar lead his explorations.

"You said that you wanted to show me how you became powerful?" Matt asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Let's start at the beginning shall we?" Sylar smirked, laughter in his eyes. He was showing off. Matt could sense his need to be appreciated, even if Sylar didn't seem to notice. He wanted to show Matt his journey not only to make Matt fear him, though that was a part of it, but he also wanted admiration. After all, everyone who had ever known of Sylar's power usually wound up dead.

Matt felt a soft tug, as he was pulled down memory lane. The room seemed to melt, and reform, painting a new image.

The first thing Matt noticed was how small the room was. It only had room to squeeze a bed into one half of the room, and a desk into the other. There was so little space between the pieces of furniture that the chair at the desk could barely pull out far enough for any human to sit in. But nothing could be done about the problem. The windowless room was too small.

But despite the size of the room, a small boy had managed to sit at the desk and a man had squeezed himself onto the bed behind him.

"That's me," Sylar said, motioning to the boy. "I'm six years old now. We're in my bedroom. The man over there is my father."

Sylar's father was gently giving instructions, showing little Sylar how to fix the watch in front of him. Various pieces of the watch's innards were spread about the desk, and the man watched with pride as his son effortlessly completed his commands.

Matt could feel the emotions. The boy, Gabriel, was elated. Matt could feel his pride at finally figuring something out. For once, Gabriel didn't feel stupid. Everything fit. The boy knew what he was meant to do. Fix watches. Matt could see what Gabriel saw. The world through the boys eyes was different than anything he had seen before. He could see where things fit, he could tell what needed to be done. It was like he could _see_ the future course of action he should take.

"This is when I first discovered my power," Sylar explained. "And to think that I ever thought I was special for such an insignificant talent. I know better now."

"Wow, you're a natural!" Gabriel's father exclaimed. Gabriel was no longer following his instructions. He was piecing the watch together as if he had been repairing watches all of his life. Gabriel felt content with himself, proud of himself. He knew no one else could do what he could. He knew he was special.

"What are you doing!" a woman shrieked. Gabriel jumped in shock. But when he saw his mother, he relaxed.

"Mom!" Gabriel said excitedly, struggling to push the chair out to stand. But there wasn't room. Giving up, he instead lifted the half repaired watch in the air.

"Look what I did! Dad didn't even need to say—"

"You are corrupting our child!" the woman roared at her husband. "You're ruining his future! You _know_ that watch repair makes no money! He _needs_ to be special! Look at him! So proud of something so worthless!"

Sylar's mom was still screaming, but Gabriel had become depressed. He was thinking to himself. Worthless? Was his newfound talent, the first thing he had ever been good at really worth nothing? Insignificant? The little boy was quickly sinking into emotions filled with shame and embarrassment.

"As you can see, I am a mere fraction of my current self in this memory. But soon, I learned to expand on what power I had. And expanding power is a talent I use to this day."

The scene changed again. This time, the memory of Gabriel was walking down the street, wearing a backpack. He seemed to be headed home from school.

"I'm twelve here," Sylar offered.

Nothing seemed to be happening, but then—_CRASH!_ Even though it was only the memory of a noise, Matt couldn't help but be startled. The door to a house just across the street from where Gabriel was walking had opened its doors with no consideration to the fact that the door nearly flew off its hinges. Matt watched in shock as a small boy was literally shoved out the door by his father. The boy hit the ground on his knees, and the man who had tossed him out shut the door with a bang. The small boy was crying, and from where Matt was standing, it looked as if the child may have been injured when he collided with the ground. Gabriel had obviously noticed this, as he approached the boy at a sprint.

The unfolding sequence of events was so amazing, that Matt could barely follow it. Gabriel was using his power to the max. He was picking up on minute reactions in the boy's face and simply by that, knowing how he would react to certain statements. It was as if the laws of the universe were laid bare to witness.

Matt watched in fascination as Gabriel figured out exactly what to say to comfort the boy, exactly how to behave, and what to do.

"You have to know," Sylar began, "I didn't suddenly come to understand everything. All the rules I'm using here, I have gathered before through observation. You can only learn what laws something follows, and see how it works, after you observe it."

Matt could tell Gabriel felt proud and happy with himself as he continued walking home. Though he was proud of his good deed, that wasn't his focus. He had known exactly what to say. No one else could have figured that out. His knowledge made him special.

But immediately Gabriel became ashamed of his pride. It wasn't enough. Matt was depressed by this sentiment. Gabriel didn't feel as if he was good enough, or special enough. It was probably why he kept taking abilities. To him, it was a never-ending quest to be special. But Matt wasn't depressed over how it made the young Gabriel or the current Sylar feel. He was only depressed because it meant there was no way to get the serial killer to stop killing.

Matt hadn't noticed, but Sylar's smirk became more pronounced as his mental dialogue continued. Sylar had managed to teach the mind reader his first lesson. Sylar would always be a killer, and now that Matt realized it, he would be less likely to try to change him. But Sylar knew it wouldn't be enough to keep Matt Parkman out of his mind forever. He needed to further motivate the mind reader to leave him alone.

"Have you ever found exceptions to your rules?" Matt asked, out of the blue. Though surprised by the unexpected statement, Sylar answered anyway. It might help to further put the mind reader off his mind. And there was no better way to do that than to truthfully say how he thought.

"The world only works one way," Sylar stated simply. "No one does something because they want to. Even if they don't know it, they _have_ to. Say you want a high definition TV. So you buy one. You didn't buy it because you wanted it. You bought it because it's what you _had_ to do to get rid of the want. No one wants to live constantly wanting something. It's a miserable emotion. So they do what's necessary to eliminate it."

"That's a bleak outlook on life."

"I believe in fate. And destiny. I will continue taking powers until I am special. It is my destiny to be so. I do it because all beings who want to be the best they can be will struggle to become so. I can be special. So I must do what it takes to get to that point."

"Do you also understand how grief works?!" Matt snarled, getting angry. "When someone's killed, people generally care."

"That's how humans work. They form connections, because they need them to feel like they are somebody. You can't be appreciated with no one to appreciate you. They form connections because they need someone in times of trouble. They may not know this is why they form relationships, but that is the reason. It is purely self-centered. They wonder what the other person can offer.

"When that person leaves them, they mourn not the name, not the face, but what that person did for them. All they will grieve for is the loss of the shoulder to lean on, the loss of the conversations and shared secrets. But in time, they will begin to hope, look towards a brighter future. Their loss will never be erased, but it can be eased by other people doing similar things. Sometimes, someone in mourning takes their life before they reach the stages of hope. The suicides of those who care too much for my victims are the only deaths I regret.

"And what is death anyway?" Sylar continued, voice distant. "The end of conscious thought. But if you work hard, you will be preserved in the minds of the world. And, therefore you live on. Life after death in memory . . . that is what I wish to achieve."

"Your sense of reality is completely screwed up," Matt snarled.

"I see how things work," Sylar smirked. "It has to be true."

"Sometimes, one math problem can be solved two ways," Matt stated, trying to calm his anger. "Just because you see only one method of life, Sylar, you can't assume it is the only one, just because it's the only method you personally can find. Also, just because something happens, doesn't mean you understand _why_ it happens. You know _how_ things work, not why."

Sylar frowned. "I see you logic. But please, stop screwing with my sense of reality. If you make me uncertain of the way things work, I will become lost. I need to follow the rules I see to exist. It's all I know." Matt knew the sentiment was involuntary. The subconscious could keep no thought hidden. Matt knew that, unfortunately, Sylar would never let that particular thought ever reach the conscious mind.

Sylar meanwhile was worried about the blurted sentence. He had accidentally shown the mind reader a weakness. He hadn't meant to say that, but there was no filter on subconscious thought. Only a filter on whether it reached consciousness. Sylar knew he would have to work hard to get Matt to truly fear him after _that_ statement.

"You said that people form relationships because they need someone," Matt pressed. "What relationships do _you_ have?"

"Enough!" Sylar snarled. "I am tired of this. All I need is to be special and to have power. And with power comes respect. That's _all_ I need." Sylar was furious. It was time to take control. But the damage couldn't be undone.

Matt could see that Sylar's statement was false, he could see that Sylar was lonely, but he didn't push further. For the time being, it was easier for him to understand how things worked. Sylar would expel him from his mind if he said anymore. Matt was also coming to understand what 'seeing how things worked' really was. It was more like the ability to interpret actions and expressions, and from there, to see what actions were likely to occur in the future based on gathered knowledge. It was just really good intuition. Nothing more, nothing less.

Though angry, Sylar was determined to show Matt his journey from insignificant watchmaker to killer. Sylar knew it was his only hope of persuading the mind reader that he wasn't to be messed with. So, he pressed on with the next memory.

Once again, Matt found himself in Gabriel's bedroom. Only this time, the boy was older, maybe a senior in high school.

He was poring over an advanced math textbook, and he appeared to be muttering the same thing over and over. Matt strained to hear the words.

"Work hard," Gabriel whispered softly, "and you will achieve greatness. Never . . ." he fell silent, as he filled out an answer. "Never settle for what you are . . . you can be more. X equals the square root of two."

Sylar watched his younger self silently. Matt wondered what the point of this memory was.

"Be the best you can be," Gabriel lectured himself. "You can be more. Be _better_ than the best you can be."

Sylar finally spoke up. "Do you see what's happened at this point?"

"You've been brainwashed?" Matt suggested. Sylar growled in frustration.

"_No_. I finally understand that I need to be special. I'm studying for the final exam of my senior year at the high school. My mom wanted me to be valedictorian."

"Were you?"

"No. My history grades killed that goal. I was never good at memorizing things. But, thanks to a certain waitress, I have an excellent memory. I can memorize anything I want." Matt was sickened by Sylar's pride.

"I still say you've been brainwashed," Matt insisted. Sylar looked ready to tear Matt's head off, when Matt took control.

Matt pulled at various memory strings, searching for the same phrase Sylar had been repeating to himself as a boy. And then, there they were. Flowing about the pair were snapshots of Sylar's life, in all of which his mom was asking him to be special. Where she was telling him he wasn't good enough. Memory upon memory of Gabriel trying and failing to live up to his mom's expectations flew by.

"ENOUGH!" Sylar roared. The memory stream stopped. "I get it, alright? I was never able to be special enough in the past! I _know_ I failed as a son!"

Matt stared blankly. That hadn't been his point. It was obvious Sylar's mother had brainwashed him, made him believe that he had to be special. Was Sylar truly so blind to reality?

While Matt thought, Sylar was desperately trying to calm himself. Matt flinched as he saw the loathing in Sylar's eyes. The man would never listen to reason. Reason clashed with the way he thought life worked, and as Sylar had said, he would be lost without his rules. And finally, Sylar was calm.

"After a time, I gave up on being special," he hissed. "But then, Chandra Suresh came to my door."

Again the scene changed. Matt saw the man he knew to be Mohinder's father enter a watch repair shop where Gabriel was working. There was no sound to the memory.

"He told me I was special. For the first time in years, I dared to hope that I could be somebody. But then . . ."

The scene shifted again to show Gabriel hooked up to some sort of machine. Chandra Suresh was monitoring the results.

"He told me that I might not have an ability after all." Matt watched as Gabriel detangled himself from the device, and threw folders to the ground in anger.

"But, while I wasn't thinking of my actions, I managed to take the phone number for a man named Brian Davis. Chandra had said he was telekinetic. I wanted to see what power was. I wanted to see the man who was considered special. Even if I couldn't have his power, just seeing it might fill me with inspiration to discover my own. So I called him."

The scene changed, to show Gabriel repairing a watch in his shop. The watch had the word Sylar written on its face.

"And much to my amazement, he showed up," Sylar continued. Matt watched as an unfortunate looking man entered the shop.

"I introduced myself as Sylar," Gabriel explained. "I wanted to feel special and important next to a man with so much power. The name Grey is so _boring_. But then, Brian didn't want his power. To this day, I can't understand why. Everybody wants to be special. But he wanted to just throw his gift away. He didn't want to be special, something I had wanted to be for my whole life. And then I saw it.

"You know how I can see how things work? It makes it really easy to spot something that I have yet to see before. And by looking at him, into his eyes, it was like I was staring into his soul. There was something physically wrong with him. Something that made him different, something that made him special. It was like I could see his ability residing within his brain. A power he didn't want, just lying there for the taking. I could see and sense that he was broken."

Matt watched Gabriel pick up a stone from his desk.

"I knew I could take his power somehow," Sylar explained as Brian Davis crumpled to the ground. "I didn't know how I would, but I knew I could. I had to have his power. It was _my_ destiny to evolve and be special. He didn't deserve his gift. He didn't want it. I _did_. He wanted it to go away. So I took it away. I _fixed_ it." A maniacal grin crossed Sylar's face. Matt felt ill.

"I knew then that it was an evolutionary imperative to take the powers others didn't deserve," Sylar hissed triumphantly. "I could do it. I was the only one who could, so therefore I _had_ to do it. It was my destiny. I knew from that point on that I would have to take each ability I came across. I didn't have a choice. It was what needed to be done to complete my purpose in life. And what is my purpose in life? To be special."

The scene shifted once more. Gabriel was examining himself in a mirror, as if looking for something different.

"Once I discovered my destiny, I was put at peace. It was like finally understanding who I was. But I didn't look like my true self."

Gabriel removed his glasses, and continued examining his face intently.

"I need a haircut," Gabriel muttered. "And new clothes. But mom will be proud. Once she sees what I can do . . . no. Mom always says to be the best you can be."

Gabriel frowned. "I can take more abilities . . . and once I have all that I can get, once I'm at my best, I'll show her. Finally, she'll be happy to call me her son," Gabriel grinned contentedly to himself.

"But after a while," Sylar continued, "I started to regret the deaths. Thankfully, I have gotten rid of that part of myself. I no longer see it as wrong. But for a while, I did."

The scene changed. Gabriel had shut himself in a closet, his hands were covered with blood. He held a black marker in one hand, and was furiously writing the same words, over and over. 'I have sinned.'

"At the time," Sylar explained, "that was the only way I had to relieve my guilt. Admitting it. But as I said, after a while I learned what I did wasn't wrong. Every murder I committed served a purpose. No one I killed truly wanted or appreciated their ability. I was doing them a favor, and helping myself in the process. And besides. I am a part of evolution, evolution is a part of nature, and nature kills. That's the end of it."

Matt watched with fascination as Gabriel continued scribbling his messages. Gabriel began to mutter to himself.

"I like to kill . . . killing's one thing but liking it? It's fun, I can't stop, I'm just gonna keep sinning aren't I? . . . I have sinned," Gabriel let out a maniacal laugh, blood dripping from his hands. "I have sinned, I have sinned, I have sinned," and on he went.

"I still like to kill," Sylar said emotionlessly. "Once I realized my killing was rational, the guilt simply vanished over anything related to the business. Killing is my job, and why punish yourself if you like your job?"

Matt could only gape in horror. Sylar smirked. Already, the mind reader was becoming terrified of his persona. Any previous mistakes he might of made, any thoughts he gave away that he shouldn't have, none of it mattered. Matt would realize that he couldn't be changed, and leave his mind alone. Sylar's goal was to make Matt fear his thoughts to ensure the reader would stay out of his head in the future. And he was succeeding.

SSS

A/N: To be honest, I had major problems with characterization and flow in this chapter. If they're still there, please tell me so I can fix them. But besides that, I'll try to get Chapter 9 out ASAP. I can only hope it flows better than this one. Oh, and I'm reading Heroes Saving Charlie. It's kind of sloppily written, but so far it's an interesting read for any Heroes fan. But I suggest borrowing it from the library, or getting a coupon. It's good, but not worth the $25.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A/N: I'm alive! Sorry about the total lack of updates. The only excuse for this being late is that I lost track of time. And don't worry. No matter how long it takes me to update, this story will be completed. I'd also like to add that intuition isn't Sylar's power in total. That's just how Matt's interpreting it based on what he sees. However, I don't plan on becoming too detailed on what exactly Sylar's power is, mainly because I'm not certain I understand it myself. Also, I wish a happy Easter to those of you who celebrate it. So now, Chapter 9.

**Chapter 9**

_Knock, knock, knock!_ It was amazing what a simple noise could do. Mohinder nearly jumped out of his skin, Molly whipped around so fast that her neck cracked, Maya eyed the door as if it was about to explode . . . and Matt and Sylar remained motionless.

It had been a tense twenty minutes, in which absolutely nothing had happened. Sure, the TV show had changed, but Molly and Mohinder were still sitting in front of it. Matt and Sylar appeared to be dead besides the fact that they were both breathing. And Maya had remained by the head of the couch, observing Matt's blank gaze, waiting for something to happen.

And that something had happened. Elle had arrived.

Maya glanced around the room. It seemed no one was going to answer the door . . . after the shock of someone knocking; everyone had reverted back to their comatose selves. Except for Maya.

With a small sigh, she stood up and approached the door. Maya glanced through the peephole.

"Um . . . there's a blonde woman at the door, should I—"

"Her name is Elle. Let her in," Mohinder sighed.

Maya had barely unlocked the door when it burst open, and Elle barreled into the room, a huge grin on her face. She had changed clothes, and was now wearing low cut jeans, a T-shirt reading 'I love New York', a dark blue baseball cap, and a pair of large sunglasses. Elle grinned wildly.

"What do you think of my disguise?" she asked, doing a small turn so everyone could get a good look at her. Maya was still in shock from the entrance. Elle's bright persona had no place in the somber room. As Maya closed the door, she briefly questioned what she was getting herself into. Working with Gabriel to take down the Company was one thing. Working with this woman was another thing entirely. She seemed the sort that would never take anything seriously. How on earth was Elle going to help take down the Company, which was such a serious venture?

"Your disguise is fine," Mohinder said, without much feeling. Elle glanced around the room.

"Aw, com' on you guys, you all are acting as if someone died! The adventure is just beginning, it's not over yet! And what's up with him?" Elle asked, jerking a hand in Matt's direction.

"He's reading Sylar's mind," Mohinder answered.

"Mind reader? Cool. But why read his mind?" Elle asked, curiosity piqued.

"So we can convince him to be a part of this team," Mohinder answered simply. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell her that a man from the future had told them to do it. Silence descended upon the room once more. There was nothing more to say. All of them would have to wait for Matt and Sylar to come around.

* * *

Matt's stared blankly at the words 'forgive me' written over and over again. Sylar was still smirking maniacally. Sylar had it all figured out. He would show the mind reader one of his most brutal, bloodiest, unforgiving murders. But there were so many to choose from. Which would be most effective? It was a hard choice. But the mind reader appeared to have thoughts of his own.

"So you don't feel guilty about killing people. Do you feel guilty about anything?"

"No," Sylar stated firmly. _Liar_. Matt knew. He could see the memory path to all guilt. He could follow it. Sylar hissed in frustration as things were taken out of his control once more. Matt was forcefully dragging him down memory lane, to a memory he feared most.

"No," Sylar growled. Enough was enough. Matt had to leave. And he would leave _now_. Sylar gave a hard mental shove, and Matt cried out, desperately trying to keep his place in Sylar's mind. He was almost there—

He had arrived. The memory Sylar was talking gently through a doorframe. He was begging.

"Please," he strained, voice on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry I scared you, just come out,"

Matt had never seen Sylar so angry. The villain's face had turned a splotchy red, and a single vein was throbbing violently in his neck.

"How dare you—" Sylar began, but Matt quickly cut him off.

"If you've never felt guilty, what's the feeling here?" Sylar clenched his teeth, but Matt focused harder on the emotions of the memory. Guilt was dominating the memory, and Matt knew he could bring it to Sylar's attention.

The memory was continuing. A woman exited the room. The memory Sylar, looked hopeful, desperate for forgiveness. But the woman, who Matt recognized from a previous memory as Sylar's mom, was unforgiving.

"I'm leaving. And when I get back, I expect you to be gone."

"Don't say that mom, it's me, it's Gabriel."

"You're not Gabriel. You're damned. And I want you out of _my_ house." Her voice ended on a sob.

Matt was distracted from trying to bring the guilt in the memory to Sylar's attention as he watched the scene unfold. He watched in fascination as memory Sylar tried to calm his mother down, as he tried to take the scissors from her hands. But . . . she was impaled. And suddenly, a Japanese man was in the room, sword at Sylar's neck. Hiro. Matt jumped, but memory Sylar had lightening reflexes. He caught the sword.

"You were in the loft, why are you following me?" Memory Sylar growled.

"I must stop you," the Japanese man trembled.

"Then do it!" Sylar snarled, bringing the sword to his throat. "KILL ME!" he roared.

Matt chose his moment. Sylar's guilt was almost unbearable in the memory, and Matt clung to it. Giving a mental tug, he pulled the emotion towards the surface.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked. He was horrified, but Matt didn't listen. It required all of his concentration to even hold on to the emotion. And then . . . he did it. The single emotion was pushed through the flimsy barrier between subconscious and conscious. Now Sylar would be confronted with the guilt of killing his mother. He would be reminded that he is human. Of course, once he woke up, he could force the thought back into the subconscious once more . . . but at least he would be briefly reminded.

"What did you do?" Sylar asked weakly. Whatever the mind reader had done, Sylar had been helpless to stop him. And Sylar hated and feared being helpless.

"Just making sure you'll know guilt. You've never really acknowledged how horrible killing your mom made you feel."

"It was an accident!"

"I know it was. But she didn't like your powers did she? She wanted the old Gabriel back. So why continue taking powers? It's not what she would've wanted."

"Yes, she would! She just didn't realize it yet! I can use my powers to do anything, be anyone! I'll become the most special person there is, and not just because she wanted me to be. But because I _have_ to be."

* * *

It had been silent in Mohinder's apartment for a long time, punctuated only by Elle's bored sighs, and by the soft murmur of the TV. The last person anyone expected to break the silence was Sylar. But yet, he did.

"Mom?" That single word shook everyone out of their reverie.

"Who said that?" Elle asked. But everyone knew there was only one possible explanation. Sylar.

"He shouldn't be waking up yet," Mohinder whispered, concern knitting his brow. But it was undoubtedly Sylar who had spoken. The villain started to tremble where he lay, tears flowed down his face, but he did no more vocally than let out a soft whimper.

Maya quickly put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from shaking his way right off the couch.

"What's going on?" She asked, concern touching her voice.

"I have no idea," Mohinder said in wonder. What on earth was Matt doing? As Sylar's tremors began to subside, Maya began to lift her hands off Sylar's shoulders. But her attempt was foiled, as the villain reached over the head of the couch, and grabbed hold of her wrists.

"Don't leave me," he hissed. His eyes opened slightly, but his gaze was unseeing. "Please," he whispered.

"He's sleep talking," Elle concluded.

"So what do I do?" Maya asked through clenched teeth. "I can't get him off!" And it was truthful. Sylar's grip was so tight, she was losing feeling in her fingers.

"Comfort him, I guess." Mohinder suggested. _What?! No!_ Maya rebelled. But then, what should she do? Gabriel was so pathetic lying there, sobbing. And yet, Maya couldn't help but feel he had no right to ask for comfort after all he had done. It was like asking for forgiveness. And he was unforgivable.

But in the end, the pain in her wrists made up her mind for her. Maya maneuvered her hands so they were lightly resting on Gabriel's. His grip slackened. Maya smiled. When she had been just a few years old, she had suffered from horrific nightmares. Maya remembered how her mother used to hold on to her to comfort her. Maya also remembered how freaked out she became the moment the contact ceased. So, Maya figured, as long as she could convince the half-awake Gabriel that she wasn't going to leave him, he would let go.

Maya slowly pulled a single hand from his grip. She never lost contact with his arm as she moved her hand down to his shoulder blade. Then, she did the same with the other hand. _Now for the hard part_, Maya mused. She put both hand under his shoulders and lifted up, pulling him into a sitting position. Then, she carefully sat where his head once was, and lowered Gabriel back onto her.

_I am not holding Gabriel, my brother's killer_, she coaxed herself. _I'm holding onto a frightened little boy, who only wants his mother._

Mohinder watched in astonishment as Sylar's trembling completely subsided, as his tears stopped flowing.

"I didn't mean to," Sylar said softly.

"I know you didn't," Maya answered, not sure what she was talking about.

"Mom . . . I killed her. She's not coming back," Gabriel softly whispered.

"Shhh, it's OK," Maya comforted. Maya began to rock back and forth gently. Gabriel's head rested on her shoulder, and Maya could feel his breathing rate normalize. _Just rocking a child in need of comfort_, Maya reminded herself. Although in truth, she felt sickened by what she was doing. It felt to her as if she was breaking some unspoken promise just by comforting him. Then, Maya did what was natural to her, but strange for everyone else. She began to sing. In her experience, nothing worked better after a nightmare. The song she chose was a song her mother had sang to her and Alejandro. It had always comforted them. Why not Gabriel?

"Cierras tus ojos," Maya sang softly. Elle watched, an amused half smile on her face. Molly felt sick at the sight of anyone showing any sort of affection to Sylar, so she stared more intently at the TV screen. Mohinder just looked confused. And meanwhile, Matt and Sylar mentally argued on.

* * *

"Now you've done it, Parkman," Sylar snarled at the mind reader. "That guilt that you think I need so badly is manifesting itself _physically_. Meaning I'm bawling my eyes out. Are the people wherever I am equipped to deal with that?!"

"I'm sure they can handle it," Matt said dryly. He knew Sylar was just floundering for something to say. But Matt had a new goal, and there was no point in hiding it. "I'm here to teach you a lesson," Matt told Sylar. "I'm here to prove that you're _human_."

"I'm better than human," Sylar snarled. Sylar knew he was now fighting a losing battle. But if he could just show Matt one murder . . . maybe the murder of that annoying woman Darlene . . . things would be right again. He could still scare Matt Parkman out of his head.

"What makes you happy?" The unexpected statement cut Sylar off mid thought.

"Huh?" He asked blankly, then winced at how slow he sounded. _Way to sound threatening_, Sylar sighed to himself. But Matt wasn't looking for an oral response.

Images melded and blended as Matt explored at his will. Scenes from a lifetime flashed past. Gabriel repairing a grandfather clock that was almost a hundred years old. A teacher complimenting young Gabriel on his book report. Memory Sylar mutilating a corpse—

Sylar tried to cling to the memory, to bring it to Matt's attention. But the mind reader almost seemed oblivious to his effort. Sylar realized the horrible truth. He had lost control.

Memories of compliments and praise flashed by. Sylar winced as he felt the elation he used to feel at such simple words of appreciation. But Sylar also felt something he had never realized he had felt before. Fear of abandonment. In all the memories, though happy with the compliments, Sylar realized he had feared losing the favor of those who recognized what success he had. And another emotion: doubt that any of the compliments were truthful. For Gabriel Grey knew he was not special, he couldn't understand why they would say good things about him. Young Gabriel was desperate for more, a feeling that he was worth something . . .

Matt smiled. It wasn't easy to bring such hidden emotions to the surface. But no one simply feels one thing at a time. When Matt had first entered Sylar's mind, he had doubted that the man had ever had any humanity. But now, Matt was proving to himself and Sylar that there was something there. Matt had found guilt in the merciless killer, he had found a fear of abandonment. And Sylar had reacted to that fear the way a few who have similar feelings do: he ensured that there was no one to abandon him. And, Matt had also learned that Sylar was unlikely to be convinced that he was worth anything no matter what evidence he had. But Matt was able to infer one more thing from the memory trail.

"You're lonely," he informed Sylar. "Your so called need to be special is really driven by loneliness. You think that if you're _special_, people will respect you, and you won't feel lonely anymore. You think it will make you happy. But it won't work. You have to be content with who you are to find happiness. And you are never content."

"It's time for you to leave," Sylar snarled. He had been brutally trashed in this battle of words. Parkman had the home field advantage, because even if it was Sylar's mind, it was Matt's power. But Sylar knew that at least it was possible to force the mind reader out. He focused all of his energy— when Matt asked something completely unexpected.

"Have you ever loved someone? You know, more than platonically?"

"No," Sylar answered, more shocked than anything else. Where on earth was Parkman going with this one?

"Or had someone who loves you just as you are? Makes you feel accepted?" Sylar shook his head, but for once, he was reluctant to push Matt away. He was curious to see where the man was going with his line of questioning.

But Matt was done talking. He was searching for a new emotion. Matt focused on how he had felt when he was with Janice, and when he knew she loved him despite his faults, despite when he thought that he wasn't worth her attention.

And almost immediately, a memory appeared. There was only one memory with such specifications. Matt's jaw dropped in shock. Someone was actually kissing Sylar. That someone was Maya. Immediately, Matt's mind flooded with a million things he now wanted to know about the Hispanic girl. How had Sylar made her love him? Did she love him still? But Sylar was oblivious to these thoughts. He was laughing.

"For once Parkman, you're completely off track," Sylar laughed. "I don't _love_ her. Look into the room behind us. Her twin brother is in there. Dead. I killed him! I was just manipulating her so I could keep her with me long enough to take her power."

Sylar was obviously pleased with his own skills of manipulation.

"But Maya didn't know that you killed her brother," Matt said, stating the obvious. "She loved you. And you knew that she wanted and needed you. And that made you happy. Can't you feel it?"

Sylar sneered. He _could_ feel it of course, but he wasn't going to admit it to Matt. And then, once again, the mind reader was pulling on emotions to bring to Sylar's attention. Happiness at kissing her, happiness of the power he held over her. Matt dug deeper. Contentment, a feeling that he could live in the moment forever. Deeper still. Fear she would reject him, and that her power would be lost to him. But it was more than that. He had come to like her company, and the way she listened to him, the way she trusted him unconditionally. And of course, he would miss how easy it was to manipulate her to see things his way. Matt dug deeper, and even Sylar was surprised by the emotion that surfaced.

Sylar felt that he needed Maya. She was supporting him. For the first time since losing his powers he felt safe and powerful. His powers had given him those feelings. But Maya had added on the feeling of being appreciated, wanted, even loved. And he loved her for it. Matt smiled. Those were all emotions Sylar needed to feel. Matt once again pushed the feelings through the barrier between subconscious and conscious. But strangely, Sylar didn't object. He was in a deep state of shock, and could do nothing other than blink.

"But I don't love her," Sylar protested weakly.

"Obviously, you do," Matt countered.

"You must have created those emotions," Sylar insisted.

"I don't know how to do that. And if, when you wake up, you find that all of those emotions are annoying, uninteresting, or otherwise undesirable, you can just push them back into the subconscious. But if you find, even subconsciously, that you like feeling those emotions, placing them back into the subconscious may be hard to do."

Sylar was momentarily silent. But then he sighed.

"At least you didn't make me sleep talk this time. I'm completely silent up in the real world."

"Good," Matt smiled. "I'm improving. But now, down to business."

"You mean you're here to do something besides exploit my memories?" Sylar asked, a slight note of sarcasm in his voice.

"Not really. But I figure that while I'm here, it'd be useful to get some stuff in the open. First of all, how badly do you want to destroy the Company?"

"I can't live with myself until I've made them pay for what they did to me," Sylar seethed. Matt felt his loathing, felt how angry Sylar was that they had dared to slight his power, and how furious he was that they had captured him once more as he tried to take out the New York base. Matt recognized all of this, and smiled. Maybe Sylar could be convinced to work on a team after all.

"I don't know much of the plan to take out the Company," Matt stated truthfully. "But I do know that it involves humiliation. Instead of just taking it out, we'll make the boss of the organization ashamed that he ever thought to create such a thing, and be too embarrassed to attempt to do so again."

Sylar raised his eyebrows. "Sounds interesting."

Matt nodded enthusiastically. "Only problem is, it'll require teamwork to pull off such a task. We've gathered a small army: you, Elle, Mohinder, Maya, me, and even Molly Walker. She can locate anyone, remember her? And, according to Mohinder, we've got a time traveler on our side, who's doing everything he can to swing events so the Company falls. And according to him, you _have_ to work with us if you want to take the Company out. You'll show that Company up for ever beating you."

"Alright Parkman," Sylar stated, cynicism coloring his voice. "Let's say that I believe that I have to work in your makeshift team to succeed in my quest to destroy the Company. But I know your "team" probably won't agree with my methods. If there're too many restriction, I'd rather take my chances and go it alone."

"Fair enough," Matt nodded. "I understand that you want to kill the Company head. You'll have to postpone until the Company's eliminated and the team is no longer necessary. For one thing, it makes sense to let the boss feel the humiliation first. For another, Mohinder tells me Elle is an important asset to the team. She'd be upset if we killed her father. Now, I don't know yet what we're doing to humiliate them, but if we raid a Company base, you can kill as many employees as you like. You can help us by seeing how things work, and teaching us what strings to pull for the maximum humiliation. All you have to do is protect members of the team, and avoid killing those helping our cause."

Sylar frowned. "I'll accept, but only if I can add a few more conditions. First, I get a promise that the team will protect me, no matter how much they hate me. Teamwork goes both ways. Also, I get the powers of those we may kill in the process of getting to the Company. If a teammate dies as a casualty of war, I get their power. And, I want an end to our team venture specified before we begin. The moment we're no longer a team, we can attack each other as we please."

Matt didn't like Sylar's analysis. It sounded as though the villain expected a lot of death.

"Those conditions don't sound _too_ unreasonable," Matt conceded. "As long as you promise not to kill anyone unrelated to the war, I'm sure we can work something out."

Sylar smirked. "Alright then, _teammate_. How about we wake up and hear this plan of yours?"

Matt nodded, and released his hold on Sylar's mind. When the pair woke up, they were no longer a villain and a hero, but teammates, united behind a common cause.

* * *

A/N: Done! Hopefully, the next chapter will be better and arrive sooner. Especially since I'll have more characters to deal with than Matt Parkman. I find him very difficult to write. And if anyone's interested, the small clip of Spanish says 'close your eyes'. At least, I think it does. I barely remember what I learned of Spanish. Also, has anyone bought the Heroes Soundtrack? Is it worth the ten bucks for the few original songs by the Heroes composers?

Chapter 10 preview: the 'team' gets together for the first time, and plans to attack the Company are laid out. Also, we get to catch up with other characters in the Heroes universe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sylar groaned lightly. His whole body felt as if it was on fire. What had happened? It took only a second for Sylar to recall the lightening shocks from Elle, and his cunning words to escape, only to have Mohinder rush in and drug him . . .

Sylar's eyes promptly snapped open, and he was met with the alarming sight of Maya's dark brown eyes only inches from his own. Sylar barely restrained a yelp of surprise as he quickly rolled right off the couch, and leapt to his feet. It was a bad move. Sylar blinked rapidly as the room darkened, and it took all of his effort just to keep from collapsing.

"What's wrong with me?" Sylar snarled, his vision slowly returning.

"You're still supposed to be out. The tranquilizer must still be in your system." Mohinder answered. Sylar blinked, and started to retaliate, when Matt cut him off.

"So!" Matt called out, his voice so loud it was obnoxious. But at least it got everyone's attention. "What do we do about this Company?" Matt finished.

Sylar looked at Matt. He knew him from somewhere. Kirby Plaza? No. More recently. Only then did Sylar recall the escapade throughout his mind. The man before him was the wretch who had brought all of those horrible emotions to light! Sylar glanced at Maya. She was looking anywhere but him, her brow furrowed in anger in a way that was strangely attractive—

_No_, Sylar lectured himself. _I do not love her. I just want to play with her mind. That's all that is appealing_.

Elle cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself.

"Well, it's quite simple really. What would humiliate the Company most? I think you all know." Elle smirked proudly. But the room still stared blankly. Elle rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on people! Think! Sylar, I know you know the answer."

Sylar glared at Elle. He didn't like everyone looking at him. Well, maybe not _everyone_ was looking at him. There was a girl in the corner who was determined to stare at the TV. Molly Walker. But still. Sylar knew he looked ridiculous in the white clothes, and it was even worse that could barely stand. But it would be more humiliating still if he didn't answer the question. And Sylar knew the best answer. He knew how things worked.

"The best way to humiliate the Company would be to outsmart them, and pull their feet out from under them. They feel an intense pride in their power and secrecy. If you take that away from them, they would be weak, humiliated and dejected. And the best way to take that away is to reveal them to the world."

"Bravo!" Elle clapped her hands together with glee. "Sylar gets it!"

"But do _you_ get that it won't work?" Sylar asked. Elle frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"In theory, it's wonderful. But humans are simple minded creatures. The moment we reveal the Company, we reveal ourselves. Sure, the Company would be embarrassed and horrified by their defeat. But in the end, we would be the ones paying the price. By revealing the Company, we put our lives on the line. And humans fear the unknown. They would want us exterminated."

"Are you saying you couldn't cope with that?" Mohinder snarled, a note of cruelty in his voice.

"I'd rather not make the world go nuclear just to save myself. What's power without people to use it on?" Sylar asked calmly. Mohinder clenched his teeth.

"Besides, you're the one who should be concerned Mohinder. What do you think the world would do with Miss Walker when they discovered her abilities?" Sylar made a vague motion at Molly, who shuddered, and finally looked towards Sylar. And that was it for Mohinder.

Sylar was knocked off his feet as the geneticist slammed into his side. Sylar let out a grunt of pain as he hit the ground. The room watched in shock as Mohinder landed on top of Sylar and proceeded to punch every bit of him he could reach.

Everyone recovered from their stupor, and just as Elle moved to land an electrifying blow to Mohinder, the doctor suddenly was lifted in a strange arc . . . right onto his feet. Matt lunged forward, and held Mohinder back before he could strike another blow. Sylar meanwhile, struggled to his feet. He had intended to send Mohinder into the table, for a bit more painful landing. But as it was, he still hadn't gained full reign of his abilities.

Maya, watching the scene unfold, was suddenly struck with an idea. Gabriel was weak now. He could barely use his powers, and he was unsteady on his feet. Maya knew that if she got close enough, she could kill him instantly, and no one would be harmed. But, something held Maya back. Elle was still smiling, despite Gabriel insulting the idea of exposing the Company. She might have an interesting plan. And, the man from the future said that Sylar needed to live to take down the Company. And even Maya had to admit that the Company _had_ to be destroyed. So, although unhappy to be letting Gabriel live, Maya decided to bide her time, and wait to see how the future would unfold.

Though winded, Sylar couldn't help but notice Maya glaring at him. He almost smiled at her gaze. She definitely hated him. But at the same time, she felt something else . . . and with that look, Sylar became certain that his future with Maya would be entertaining.

"Well then," Elle huffed, with an annoyed glare at Mohinder. "As I was going to say before Mohinder _rudely_ interrupted, humans _are_ three dimensional, no matter how simple they may seem. You should know that, Sylar. Humans may be terrified of the unknown, but they also have a soft spot. Children."

Elle waited for a reaction, but there was none. Realizing she needed to explain more, Elle continued.

"You know how everyone gets mad at child abusers, molesters, and the like? Well, there's a Company base in Columbus, Ohio that most Company workers jokingly refer to as the breeding ground. In case you didn't know, the Company has figured out a way to predict what powers the offspring of super-powered parents will have. There's a couple I know off the top of my head. A phaser, someone who can go through walls, and someone with super-strength will likely create a child who can control technology. That was a recent project. Mindreading is a dominant gene, so I'm guessing Matt's family has had that power for many generations. Telekinesis is highly recessive, and is one of the more rare abilities.

"But that's not the point. The point is that this Company base raises and pairs children to create the abilities they want. The kids are basically brainwashed. The Company is glorified like a God, while the kids are taught they are insignificant, and deserve to be controlled by the Company. They learn that those who do not follow the Company's rules must be converted. I'm absolutely serious!

"If we release these kids, after giving them a talking to, it will be world news. The kids won't be seen as freaks of nature, something to be feared. They'll be victims of an organization that wanted to breed and exploit them, and put them to rigorous and inhumane tests. The public will be more infuriated by the cruelty of the Company employees than afraid of the kids. It's like a case of racism. People in America hate racism. We could make the Company look like Hitler, and those kids a bunch of tortured Jews. Can't you see how perfect that is?"

The room was silent, but it was a different sort of silence. Mohinder had a slight smile on his face. Matt looked mischievous. Maya looked flabbergasted. Molly just looked relieved that Sylar hadn't tried to kill her. And Sylar himself wore a contemplative frown.

"That . . . might work," he admitted grudgingly. "It'd have to be well played though. And," Sylar began, frown deepening, "I'm assuming we'll get some cameras around to reveal the children and the Company to?"

"Of course," Elle replied. "It's the best, most effective way."

"Well then," Sylar smirked, "I want to be seen as the brains of the operation. The hero."

"What!?" Elle shouted.

"Why?" Mohinder asked, completely confused. Sylar looked at Mohinder somewhat warily, looking for signs that the doctor would attack him once more.

"You heard me," Sylar continued, trying to keep all malice out of his voice. He couldn't withstand another physical attack. "I want Bob to know I was there. I want to humiliate him."

"Why can't you do that in the background?" Matt asked.

"Because the world will know about special people. And I have a long rap sheet with the FBI. If I show up on camera, the FBI will eventually realize that I'm the strange elusive serial killer they've been chasing for about a year. If I'm in the background as one of the contributors of the rescue, they can take me away and no one will care. But if I'm the hero of the whole thing, they'll have doubts about my identity. No one wants to arrest the hero. They'll be reluctant to act on suspicion, and want to wait until the news dies down. I'll need that time to get far away, preferably to another country, and escape the public eye."

"So you can go on killing," Mohinder snarled. But Sylar merely looked at the doctor emotionlessly.

"Of course."

Matt quickly interrupted a possible fight by going over what 'team' conditions Sylar had specified while they had been talking telepathically. After some frowning, and a few questions, the conditions were easily settled.

"Our team venture will be over as soon as all of us leave the news scene after releasing the kids. We'll no longer be required to work together. Then, as Sylar suggested, we may attack each other as we please," Elle informed the room. She then continued.

"It's a nine hour drive to the facility. From the outside, it looks like a Ford car dealership. But the basement goes almost a mile underground, and it's almost two miles long and a mile wide. The Company owns all of the surrounding land for three miles. So there's security everywhere. It's going to be a real adventure. Now," she finished, clapping her hands together. "How should we go about this? We can't be seen together . . ."

"Mohinder, you Matt, Molly and Sylar should head to the parking garage a couple blocks down. You know where my car is."

"Why does Molly have to come?" Mohinder asked, a panicked look on his face. "She'll be in danger!"

"_Think_ doctor," Elle sighed, rolling her eyes, "How safe will she be at home when the Company shows up to search you're apartment?"

Mohinder flushed with embarrassment. "I _meant_, why does Molly have to come with us and Sylar?"

"Because we want the Company to think you're the one who took Sylar. If he's seen with anyone, it has to be you. And it'd only make sense for Molly to come with you as well. It would make no sense for members of your family to travel separately. Then, in ten minutes, I'll come with that girl on the couch, and it will all be good."

"I'm Maya," Maya stood up to introduce herself.

Elle glanced over the top of her sunglasses, but said nothing in return.

"Let's go then," Matt proclaimed.

"_Hold_ it," Sylar snarled. "You don't _honestly_ think I can walk about like this?!" He motioned to his all white prisoners outfit. Elle giggled immaturely. Even Molly smiled at Sylar's discomfort.

"You can borrow some of Mohinder's clothes," Matt offered.

"Oh no," Mohinder protested. "He's not coming anywhere _near_ my things."

"Well my clothes won't fit him," Matt answered. "And he can't wear girl clothes. We're trying to be inconspicuous."

Mohinder sighed. "I'll get him something." With that, he stalked off to his room.

"I'm missing my watch," Sylar stated, glancing at his wrist for the first time.

"But it's broken," Elle stated, confused.

"But I _need_ it!"

"Why?" Elle asked. With that question, Sylar faltered. How could he explain to them that the watch basically defined who he was? That it was the watch that inspired him to take the name Sylar? And why _should_ he explain?

"Do you know where it is?" Sylar asked, choosing not to answer the question.

Elle hesitated. "It's . . . in my luggage in the car. My daddy let me keep it as a souvenir for beating you. But now that we're a team . . . I guess it's rightfully yours."

Sylar nodded forcefully. Just then, Mohinder appeared with clothes in his hands.

"I am _not_ wearing those," Sylar snarled. Mohinder had brought out a pair of khaki pants, a white button up shirt, a pair of white socks, and a pair of ratty brown shoes.

"Why not?" Mohinder asked, slightly offended that Sylar showed such disgust at an outfit Mohinder had worn himself.

"It's too . . . boring!" And Matt understood. The outfit Mohinder had brought out was something Gabriel Grey would have worn.

"Look," Mohinder snarled, quickly losing patience. "You're taller than I am, and these pants have always been a bit long on me. Plus the shirt has room to spare. They should fit you better than anything else I have."

After a brief stare down, Sylar grudgingly took the clothes and walked off to the bathroom to put them on. He couldn't wait until he had full use of his powers. There were so many things he was dying to do.

SSS

Peter was angry at everyone and everything. It had been this way ever since Nathan died. For once in his life, Peter felt lost, helpless, and without purpose. Peter didn't have a job that paid money. He had quit being a hospice nurse to save the world. He was a hero. And now the world needed saving again. Not from a bomb, not from himself, and not from Sylar. The world needed to be saved from the Company. Peter was sure he could have faced any threat but that.

He didn't know where to begin. He knew his mom had some knowledge that might be helpful, but what would he do with it then? How could any one person go about taking out so many people? And it wasn't only the Company members he would be fighting, it was the very idea that super-powered people should remain silenced.

Peter left out an annoyed sigh, and glared intently at the blank TV screen. With a slight jerk of his head, the screen came alive, and the channel flipped all the way to NBC news. Watching the news. It was all Peter had done since Nathan's death. But while most of the New York population only heard an increase in kidnappings, disappearances, and murders, all Peter could hear was the hidden scream of Company activities. Peter had no doubt the Company was behind at least half of the events. But what could he do about them? How could he stop it?

"George Taylor," the newscaster announced, "a magician in Queens was reported missing yesterday afternoon. Police reports indicate there was evidence of a struggle in Taylor's apartment, so kidnapping is a possibility. Mr. Taylor was best known for his tricks in the field of optical illusions. Regulars at the club where Taylor worked claim that he could convince you just about anything was happening.

"This is not the only tragedy in the Taylor family, however. Just a few months ago, George's brother was found murdered. Is it coincidence, or does someone have a grudge against the Taylor family? Now, we cut to Clive. Clive is talking to police officer Davies who is investigating the Taylor case."

Peter jerked his head again and the TV turned off. He had been working on his telekinetic abilities, but he still had to make some sort of motion to activate them. At least moving your head to turn the TV on was less obvious than pointing at it.

Peter stood up and walked from the living room. He couldn't have listened to anymore depressing news of he tried. Peter traveled to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing a salad.

"Have you gotten a job yet, Peter?" she asked, not looking at him. Peter sighed.

"No mom."

"Then I suggest you leave now and go hunting. I refuse to put another meal on your plate until you start earning money."

Peter didn't respond. She had been using this line for the past three days. She always let eat whatever he wanted. It was all talk. And Peter only hoped he could get her to talk more.

"Have you heard the news mom? Murders, kidnappings, disappearances . . . you know who's behind them," Peter waited several seconds for his words to sink in. "If I were to attack a Company base, which one should I attack to do the most damage?"

Peter focused. But he wasn't listening with his ears. He was attempting to use his power to read minds. Before, it was only activated when someone had tried to read his mind. It was time to use the power on his own. Peter could only pray he could summon it at will.

'_Columbus, Ohio_.' It wasn't stated, but Peter heard it. It worked! Peter tried to keep his face blank as his mother prepared a different answer for him to hear.

"Oh Peter, there are so many facilities, there isn't a single one that would be more beneficial to attack over another." She sounded exasperated and annoyed. But Peter heard the mental continuation. '_And any facility you attacked would easily take you out. I can't bear to lose another son._'

Peter sighed. It was time to simply confront his mother with the truth. He was incapable of hiding what little knowledge he had gathered from her thoughts.

"Where exactly is the facility in Columbus?" There was silence.

"You've met Mr. Parkman, haven't you? Yes . . ." Mrs. Petrelli sighed. "All you have to do is look for the biggest Ford plant in Columbus. You'll find it. But Peter, it would take an army—"

"Yes, I know. Bye mom." Peter couldn't bear to look at her. He knew that she feared for his life. And he knew that she was probably right in thinking he would die. But Peter was incapable of sitting idly while he knew atrocities were being committed. So, without so much a further glance at his mother, Peter turned and walked out the front door.

SSS

Claire hadn't seen her dad in several days. His parting words had been something along the lines of, 'things will get better'. But Claire could only see things getting worse. First of all, West was being forced to work for the Company. And then there were the moral dilemmas.

"I'm worried Claire," West quietly confided just outside the biology class room. Claire continued walking as though he had said nothing, but listened attentively. West's tone implied secrecy, and she was trying to draw as little attention to them as possible.

"I found a hero," West whispered once more. Claire went cold. West had been given a simple assignment. All he had to do was tell the Company the names of suspected Heroes, and his family wouldn't get hurt. But who knew what the Company would do with the new name.

Claire reached her locker, and began pulling out books. Here, it was easier to hold a conversation, as it was easier to stop at a locker without looking suspicious than it was to stop in the middle of a hallway.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to turn them in," West's voice was soft, pleading. And Claire's heart almost melted. But she had to speak firmly, for the sake of their future.

"You have to," Claire said, and then she leaned over to whisper in his ear, and there was nothing suspicious in that, as teenage couples were often seen with their faces pushed together. "I can't lose you too."

Claire kissed West lightly on the cheek before pulling away. She hated thinking only of her personal needs. On one hand, she feared personal tragedy, and on the other she feared what the Company was up to. But as far as she could tell, if West didn't turn the kid in, West's family was guaranteed to die, and West was likely to disappear. On the other hand, if he did turn the kid in, there was a possibility nothing would happen at all. Claire felt helpless knowing there would likely be no positive outcome to anything she and West decided to do concerning the Company.

West hesitated, then continued, in an unsteady manner, "I doubt they'll do anything to the boy. He's quite talented with animals, almost like he can understand what they're thinking. It's too bad they can't understand him back. Otherwise he might have a useful gift."

Claire understood what West was trying to say. The boy he met could understand animals, but since they couldn't understand him, his power would be useless to the Company. The Company would be less likely to do anything drastic.

"I'll phone my boss tomorrow," West said, before walking off to class. It depressed Claire to realize that they felt the need to refer to Company activities so discreetly. It showed that they viewed the Company as a threat. And Claire hated feeling threatened.

SSS

A/N: The end! Of this chapter, anyway. I've decided that I can no longer promise when I will update, as my life has become so hectic that I barely have time to write. Thank you for your patience.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: It's here. Finally. And I have good news. School is almost over. Meaning, I'll hopefully have more time to type more chapters. But until then, I have to juggle school, homework and a job. I'm rather looking forward to summer. So, with that being said, I hope you enjoy Chapter 11.

**Chapter 11**

Nine hours to Ohio . . . the time seemed like an eternity. The trip to the Company base had barely begun, and yet everyone was already miserable. Mohinder was driving Elle's van as if he had been driving it all of his life. Only his white knuckles betrayed the fact that he was as nervous as heck, not only because of the van's occupants, but because he'd never driven anything bigger than a taxi. No music played, and no one spoke. The van was painfully silent.

Elle sat shotgun, right next to Mohinder. She wanted to go on an adventure. But sitting by and waiting was painfully boring. She was longing to turn on the music to stir things up. But Elle liked the powerful electric chords of hard rock and heavy metal, something to which most of the van's occupants had strongly protested to. Including Sylar. This surprised her, as she had always seen him as the heavy metal type. She had then suggested listening to some beautiful romantic songs, but Maya had said that they made her sick. Elle didn't know why. What was better than a musical romance fantasy? So Elle remained silent, and glared moodily out the window.

Behind her sat Sylar. He was silently seething. He wore Mohinder's clothes well, and had left a few buttons undone to make him look less like a businessman. His watch was back in its rightful place, but his powers still weren't functioning. He could feel it. So, to entertain himself, he glared at Maya, seeing how long it would take her to say something.

Maya, meanwhile, was doing everything in her power not to look Gabriel's way. Ohio could not arrive fast enough. But Maya knew that they were nowhere near close. Because of their late starting time, they'd have to get a place to stay the night before heading out again. Unless, of course, someone wanted to drive while everyone else slept, but Maya knew that wouldn't work. There had been a long discussion about who should drive.

In that discussion, Sylar established that he didn't trust Maya driving, as he thought she might chuck them all in a lake or off a cliff just to get rid of him. No one wanted Matt driving, because it was decided that he needed to read minds to detect any murderous thoughts before they could be enacted. Elle wasn't trusted driving because she got bored easily, and liked to speed, and the last thing they needed was to be pulled over. No one trusted Sylar to drive for obvious reasons, and Molly couldn't drive. This left Mohinder, who everyone agreed was logical and usually levelheaded. Even Sylar said he preferred Mohinder to drive over Maya. And so it was settled. But that only showed that they couldn't take shifts.

So, they would need a place to spend the night. But motels cost money, and no one could use ATM cards as they could be tracked. So, everyone had what cash they could gather. But that money needed to pay for at least a dinner and a breakfast along with a motel, and there wasn't nearly enough for that. And when you add the price of gas, things would get ridiculous. But Maya was certain they'd come across money somehow. Gabriel seemed the sort who could get his hands on it.

But the most important question was: could they survive the trip? In all honesty, Maya wasn't sure they could. So, she glared out the window, delaying a fight between herself and Gabriel for as long as possible.

Matt sat directly behind Maya, so he could keep an eye on Sylar. Despite the fact that he was unnerved entering the villain's mind, he did so anyway. Sylar definitely loved Maya. But, like a school boy, he wanted to get her attention, even the negative kind. He wanted her to react to him. To Sylar, Maya was a shiny new toy, to be played with until it broke or lost its appeal.

The there was Maya's mind. Matt couldn't dig as deeply as he would have liked to, but she definitely still loved him. But thoughts of love wasn't what was disturbed Matt the most. He sensed that both Maya and Sylar would leap at the opportunity to kill one another. Maya wanted to kill Sylar in part for revenge, in part to save the lives of his victims, and in part because she didn't want to let him further corrupt his soul. Sylar wanted to kill Maya simply because it was his destiny to take her power. And they still loved each other. Love was twisted.

Behind Sylar sat Molly. Her mind was going a mile a minute. She sat where she could see Mohinder and Matt, but couldn't see Sylar. If she could see him, he could see her, and the thought was unnerving. She wished she didn't have to come, but it appeared that she had to. She would be no help in taking down the Company. So she was just along for the ride.

Sylar was getting rather bored glaring at Maya. She wasn't reacting at all. But what else was there to do? He couldn't start a conversation. The atmosphere in the vehicle was so tense, that it seemed everyone was resisting the urge to murder each other. This tension couldn't last. If they had any hope to work together as a team, they needed to at least be comfortable around one another. And Sylar hadn't needed to put anyone at ease for the longest time, so he had no idea how to go about it.

"What sort of music do you like, Sylar?" Matt asked. Sylar turned to look at him. Had Matt been in his head? But the question seemed to have done the trick. Everyone was in shock at the spoken question, but some of the tension was alleviated. And, Sylar decided, a Q&A was the best way to get everyone to feel comfortable around each other. After all, you're more likely to work with a person the better you know them.

"Classical," Sylar answered. "Also Jazz, movie soundtracks . . . instrumental sorts of music," Sylar shrugged. Actually, he had never really thought much about the music he liked. It had never been a big part of his life. But he grew up on classical and had never cared much for singers. To him, it was like they were ordering the listeners to see things their way. Sylar had always preferred interpreting the music himself.

"Really?" Matt asked. "I'm a big fan of music from the 70's. But hey, that's just me. Maya?"

Maya started. "Um . . . I've always liked string orchestra, but usually I listen to reggae, and Spanish pop."

"Heavy metal!" Elle called out.

"Um," Mohinder paused. "I haven't heard much of my sort of music around here. The music they play in India is rather unique."

Matt glanced at Molly. Molly really didn't want to say much, but everyone else had said something.

"I like the songs in _High School Musical_," Molly practically whispered.

"Who doesn't?" Matt asked with a grin. Already people were loosening up. "Alright. Molly gets to ask the next question. Make it a general question, nothing personal."

"Um . . . what's your favorite food?"

"Chilaquiles," Maya said without hesitation.

"Yes, when you make them, they're _amazing_," Sylar purred. Maya glanced at him nervously. Was he going to cause trouble?

"But I prefer steak. And there's a steak house next exit. Anyone up for it?"

"How can we afford a night's stay at a motel if we eat steak?" Mohinder asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

"I'm an expert pickpocket," Sylar said with a slight smirk. "So, what do you say?"

SSS

Maya couldn't believe that Mohinder had actually done as Sylar requested. Before she knew it, they were seated at a large booth at a steakhouse simply called 'Steak and Stars'. Maya had wondered what the stars part of the title was for, but now she knew. Within the restaurant, there was a dance floor, open to the stars in the night sky. That is, if it had been nighttime it would've been. Currently, there were no stars, only grey clouds and a weak sun. Although, the live band was a nice touch.

Maya winced as Gabriel's foot landed forcefully on top of hers. What the heck? She glared at him across the booth. He just smiled and raised a bushy eyebrow. Maya shuddered. The smile was endearing, but creepy at the same time. Maya glanced around the table. To her left was Elle, and to Elle's left sat Matt. Across from Maya was Gabriel, and next to him was Mohinder, followed by Molly.

But despite Maya's efforts to ignore the foot on top of hers, her foot was starting to throb. Irritably, Maya pulled her foot out from underneath Gabriel's, only to have it pinned again. Glaring at him, Maya pulled her foot loose once more, but this time placed it forcefully on top of Gabriel's. She smirked as he winced slightly. But then his foot was gone and on top of hers again. Now incredibly annoyed, Maya pulled loose and put her foot on Gabriel's once more.

"Awww," Elle crooned. "Are you guys playing footsie under the table?"

Mohinder looked first at Maya and then at Sylar as though they had both grown extra heads. Maya blushed, realizing what Elle had said, and pulled her feet under the bench. Elle laughed. Maya glared at Gabriel as he mouthed the words, 'I win.' Rage bubbled up within Maya, threatening to release the black plague within—

But, thankfully, a waitress arrived.

"Hi, my name is Tara, and I will be your waitress for this evening. Are you all ready to order?"

"Yes," Mohinder stated.

Everyone proceeded to give their order. Maya didn't like the expression Gabriel was giving the waitress. He wore a soft easy smile. When he was asked to order, Gabriel spoke softly.

"I know exactly what I want, but it's not on the menu. Pity." He gave the waitress a stunning smile. Maya was furious. Was he flirting with that woman?!

"But as far as food is concerned, I'll have a steak. Medium rare." Gabriel winked. He _was_ flirting with her. The waitress was flushing under his stare.

"C-coming right up," She stuttered. Maya watched in disgust as she walked off with a dazed smile.

SSS

Sylar bit his tongue, trying to keep his face from splitting into a wide grin. Of course, he wasn't actually into the waitress. She was beautiful enough, but Sylar had long stopped looking for romance. What he had wanted to do was analyze the emotions Maya held for him. And judging by her reaction to his harmless flirting, if you could even call it that, was most amusing. She was jealous. And that meant she still loved him. Things were becoming more interesting by the minute.

But though Sylar did want to amuse himself with Maya, he knew he was on a serious venture. And so far, the so-called team was barely functional. But this restaurant had a dance floor. Interesting things could happen over a dance.

SSS

After a half an hour, the food arrived. Maya happily picked up her, 'All-American Cheeseburger' contentedly. American food may not be healthy, but it sure tasted good. Everyone began ravenously eating their food, with the exception of Elle, who ate her salad daintily. Though Sylar attracted a few stares with his enthusiasm at eating the pink steak, dinner was a generally peaceful affair. Once finished, everyone sat back in their seat, content and full.

Mohinder asked for the bill, and whistled softly once it arrived.

"How much?" Matt asked.

"Eighty dollars," Mohinder whispered.

"That's not bad at all," Sylar sighed, lifting himself off the bench slightly to gain access to his back pocket.

"You don't have any—" Mohinder began, but stopped as Sylar pulled a wad of cash out of the pocket. Matt and Elle, who had similarly been reaching for cash, stopped mid motion.

"Where'd you get that?" Maya asked, shocked.

Sylar smirked slightly, and Maya winced, realizing that she had actually spoken to him. It was something she had been avoiding ever since reunited. By talking to him, she was paying attention to him. And Maya could tell that Gabriel was the sort who liked any sort of attention. So in a way, she had lost another battle to him. Gabriel two, Maya zero.

"You'd be surprised how easy this is to come by. People just leave tips on the table. It's not hard to simply take them. The waiters will assume their table skimped. But don't worry. I left cash on some of the tables, especially the ones with the larger tips. If you give a large tip, it's likely you're either a regular, or your waiter is so good, they always receive a lot of cash. Those tips would be missed."

"How?" Everyone turned their attention onto Molly. She had never directly addressed Sylar before. Sylar smiled at her in a way that wasn't menacing or sinister in the least, which was saying something.

"Telekinetically," Sylar explained. "First, I folded the money into a small, almost unnoticeable green blur. Some of the money, I slid along the floor, others I shadowed the footsteps of people. And if anyone saw it, they didn't believe it. People rarely do."

"Is that enough to cover the bill?" Elle asked.

"With a couple singles left over," Sylar nodded.

"Well then," Elle said, sitting up regally. "I want to dance," She said, turning a lusty stare towards Mohinder,

Mohinder hastily averted his eyes, and quickly asked Molly, "Would you like to dance?"

"I'd love to," Molly answered with the first grin she had given so far. Elle was left pouting as Sylar stood up to let the two out. Molly practically ran past in her haste to get away from Sylar. Sylar barely had time to sit back down before Elle spoke once more.

"Well, how about you?" She asked, turning towards Matt. Matt recoiled in horror as he realized that she was talking to him. Elle thought quite vividly, and Matt had to struggle not to vomit as lusty images crossed Elle's mind. Now concerned for his safety from sexual harassment, Matt began to stutter a no, but Elle made up his mind for him. Matt could see reflected in her mind's eye a rather painful electric shock if he refused the dance. Swallowing nervously, Matt went with the lesser of the two evils.

"Why not?" he asked weakly. Elle laughed with joy, and Maya scrambled to get out of her seat as Elle attempted to squeeze around her in her enthusiasm to get to the dance floor. Once seated, Maya noticed that Gabriel was staring at her. But it wasn't a glare. It was the same look he had given her when they had been traveling towards America.

Maya blinked, and looked away. She now knew how easily he could flirt with people. She would not be swayed.

A fast song was playing. Maya watched with a small smile as Molly danced with what were undoubtedly the latest dance moves, while Mohinder moved his arms to the time of the beat. He looked ridiculous, but Molly didn't seem to be embarrassed by him. Maya shifted her attention to Matt and Elle. They were amusing to watch. It appeared that Matt was trying to keep a respectable distance between them, but Elle kept sidling up to him just the same.

"Looks like fun doesn't it?" Gabriel asked. Maya ignored him. He fell silent. Maya was relieved, content that he wasn't going to say anything else when—

"Dance with me," he ordered. Maya spun around to look at him. She detected no ill humor in his face. He was asking her seriously.

"What?" she asked.

"It might be fun. What do you have to lose?"

He was smirking at her. Maya hated that. She did want to dance, just not with him. She didn't want to sit at the same table let alone be his dance partner. But his expression was unchanging, and she would have to say something. And suddenly— she felt herself being pulled to her feet.

"What?" She let out, completely confused. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Maya's mind reeled with horror as one foot was pulled forcefully in front of the other. She nearly toppled over as the other foot followed.

Gabriel got to his feet.

"I knew you'd dance with me. But I prefer a more willing partner. You'll look completely clumsy if I have to make you move the whole time. Plus, using telekinesis on a living thing is draining. Please don't make me use it on you."

Everything in Gabriel's voice screamed of evil. He would dance with her whether she wanted him to or not. And yet— his raised eyebrows and soft smirk were oddly attractive. Maya hated herself for thinking so, but even villains could have good looks. And Maya did know one thing. She did not want Gabriel using telekinesis on her again.

"Alright," she sighed.

Gabriel grabbed her hand, and in a manner that was strangely gentle, lead her onto the dance floor. Gabriel took a couple of seconds to look around him, almost as if observing how to dance. But Maya wasted no time. She loved the strong beat of the song. It reminded her of the songs she used to dance to back home.

So, Maya proceeded to dance, first moving just her feet to the beat, getting a feel for it. Eventually, she loosened up enough to move her whole body. She was one with the music. The beat of the music was the beat of her heart, the rhythm was what told her to move.

"You dance beautifully," Gabriel stated, and Maya was startled. She had almost forgotten he was there. It ticked her off to notice that he hadn't been dancing himself.

"Weren't you the one who wanted to dance?" Maya asked, managing to find the beat of the song once more. Gabriel let out a soft chuckle.

"Sorry, you distracted me. The way you move your hips is fascinating. I knew most Spanish dances had a lot of hip movement, but I'm not sure I could manage without falling over."

Maya blushed, but he didn't seem to be making fun of her. He was praising her. And in a way, that made it worse. And then Gabriel began to dance. For a brief instant, Maya became so captivated, that she forgot to dance herself. He moved fluidly to the music, although where Maya was more into moving her hips, Gabriel seemed to only move from the waist up, and his smooth motions were completely sexy.

Maya gave herself a quick mental slap, and continued to dance. She tried to ignore Gabriel . . . which was probably why she didn't notice when he came up behind her. She was abruptly alerted to his presence however when he put his hands about her waist.

"Hey!" Maya half yelled, spinning around to hit him, or at least reprimand him. But right before she could look him in the eye, the song ended. The dancers clapped for the band, and Maya made the obligatory gesture of clapping too. She glared at Gabriel, but he merely raised his eyebrows innocently.

Then the music picked up again, but this time, it was a slow song. People were coupling up, the men taking on the traditional slow dance position which included one hand on the female's waist. And Maya knew one thing. She wasn't going to let Gabriel touch her.

"Let's sit out for this one," Maya stated, but in reality it was more of a plea.

"I was thinking we should just swap partners," Gabriel shrugged. "There's someone I want to talk to."

SSS

Sylar was determined to remove some of the tension between himself and the others. Currently, as he saw it, making Molly comfortable around him was his biggest obstacle. As long as she was wary of him, Mohinder was like an overprotective mother lion taking care of her cub. Sylar figured if he could reduce Molly's fear, everyone would be less tense.

If he was going to attempt to take down the Company with these people, he would have to be able to get along with them. Maya was almost under his thumb, leaving only Molly to sort out. That was why Sylar was leading Maya across the dance floor to the place where Mohinder and Molly were dancing. He needed to talk to her.

Sylar took the time to note the distance between Mohinder and Molly. It was a good two feet, if not more. Mohinder was holding on to Molly's hands as she led him about in circles. Molly was laughing, and she seemed to be occasionally stepping on Mohinder's toes on purpose. Sylar also took in how loose Mohinder's hold was, and how small his steps were, as well as how high he was holding Molly's hands.

Sylar stepped forward, and the moment his presence was noticed, Molly and Mohinder stopped dancing immediately.

"Mind if I cut in?" Sylar asked. Molly was slack jawed, her eyes bulging in terror.

"You want to dance with me?" Mohinder asked, completely flabbergasted. Sylar blinked slowly. Mohinder could draw the strangest conclusions. Although, it did give him an idea. After all, practical jokes do make people laugh. Laughter relieves tension. Although for now, Sylar decided to focus on one goal at a time.

"Not with you," Sylar answered Mohinder, a slight snarl in his voice, "With Molly."

Maya asked, "Why?!" at the same time that Mohinder yelled, "No!"

"I just want to talk to her," Sylar stated. "I'll only be a few feet away. You can watch me the whole time."

"No," Mohinder repeated forcefully.

"Molly?" Sylar asked, looking at the obviously frightened girl. "Will you dance with me? I just want to talk. About me, you . . . your parents."

At the word parents, Molly's head snapped up to look straight into Sylar's eyes. Did he want to tell her how her parent's had died? Reveal their dying words? Say why he had done it? Give a false apology? He had found her parents, been able to track them, and discover their ability. Maybe he knew more about them than she could remember. And Molly knew then that she would hate herself if she turned away anything that could make her better understand why her parents had been taken away.

So, Molly took a tentative step forward. She could feel her whole body quake, and her heart was beating so fast, it felt as though it would burst through her ribcage. Despite this, Molly's voice was perfectly stable as she spoke.

"I'll dance . . . but we can't go far from Mohinder."

Sylar nodded. He didn't look triumphant, or excited, or even remotely pleased. In fact, he showed no emotion at all. Molly felt slightly better at this. If he had looked happy, she would have run in the other direction, fearful for whatever malicious intention he had toward her.

Mohinder made a weak sound of protest, but made no move to stop Molly as she stepped closer to Sylar.

"Come on," Mohinder whispered harshly, grabbing hold of Maya's shoulder and bringing her towards himself. Maya let out a soft gasp of surprise as the usually gentle doctor pulled her into his arms.

"Maya, we're going to dance," Mohinder whispered harshly into her ear. "One of us needs to see Molly at all times. If it looks like he's trying to hurt her, or if it looks like she's trying to run, or even if she starts crying, let me know. If such a thing happens, we need to get Molly back as fast as possible,"

Maya could understand this. Molly was like a daughter to Mohinder. So, though she disliked her close proximity to the man, she decided not to protest, as it was in the name of keeping Molly safe.

SSS

Sylar had only taken Molly about ten feet away from Mohinder, all the while making sure the doctor could still see them. Admittedly, dancing with Molly was the last thing he wanted to do. But he needed her to hear what he had to say alone, and he knew that he couldn't _not_ dance and talk to her, as people were more apt to listen in. People always pay attention to the thing out of place. He also knew he couldn't take Molly back to the tables, as someone would want to watch him, and without the drone of the music, it would be easier to overhear a conversation.

Turning to Molly, Sylar offered his hands, palm up, at precisely the same level Mohinder had been holding his hands. Molly hesitated, then placed her hands in his with the smallest shudder. Sylar then closed his hands about hers, with even a gentler grip than Mohinder had used. She could easily pull away at anytime. He ensured there was a slightly greater distance between them than there had been between her and Mohinder.

"You can lead, if you want," Sylar told her, remembering that she had been the one leading the doctor. But Molly seemed too terrified to move, so Sylar took the lead. He took one small baby step to the right, approximately the same size step Mohinder had been taking. Molly followed. And they were dancing. Sort of. The only took one step per beat, and only moved in a circle. Molly stared at her feet.

Sylar knew that songs generally lasted only three minutes, so he wasn't sure how much time he had. So, gathering what he wanted to say, Sylar began.

"Molly, as you know, I am not a very nice man. I killed your parents because I wanted their power. You're father died before he knew I was even in the room. I turned on your mother, but she ran up the stairs, screaming like a banshee. I gave chase," Sylar paused. Molly had looked him in the eye. She was glaring at him. That was good. Having her hate him was much less crippling than having her fear him.

"She went silent at the top of the stairs. I couldn't find her. I taunted her, did anything I could to bring her out of hiding. It was then I heard a noise downstairs. I dismissed it, but I was wrong to. Too late, I noticed that the rooms interlocked in a ring around. She could have walked past me without my noticing. I was furious. I ran down the stairs, and there she stood. Because of my rage, I killed her in, I admit, a rather brutal and bloody way. I used telekinesis to chuck every sharp object available into her body. But don't worry. The impact of one of them only left her alive for about ten seconds. Then I tried to find you.

"I knew I had very little time. I had blown the door off f its hinges, and even though it was in the middle of a suburb on a work day, someone might have been around to notice. After all, yours couldn't have been the only family waking up early for work and school.

"But I didn't have everything I had come for. You didn't appear to be in the immediate vicinity, but I knew you were somewhere in the house. I had watched all three of you enter the night before, and if you had left, your mother would have gone with you. All of the windows were locked, and the back door was locked from the inside, so I knew you could have only possibly escaped through the front door. So, I looked outside. It had rained recently, so any attempt to cut through grass would have been easily detectable. There were no footprints. So I checked the street and sidewalk. No one was out, and I could find no evidence that anyone had left the house.

"So I knew you must have been hidden. So, while I waited for you to come out and see if everything was over, I helped myself to the wonderful power I came for. But even after I had finished, you still hadn't shown.

"I called out for you for a long time. But with no luck. I finally had no choice but to leave. Out of curiosity Molly, where were you that whole time?"

Molly was furious. Her face was red, and her teeth were clenched. Though she didn't realize it, she was gripping Sylar's hands so hard that he was loosing feeling in his fingers. But Sylar didn't react to the pain with anger, or even a wince. He didn't want to disrupt her completely fearless state.

"I was upstairs when you broke in. I heard my mom scream, and I saw her run up the stairs, towards me. You were following her so slowly, almost as if taunting her, you were so sure she had nowhere to go. She put a hand on my mouth, stopped screaming, and lead me through the rooms. Walking behind you was about the most frightening thing I had ever done. She took me down the stairs, and put her hand over my eyes. The cops told me it was because she didn't want me to scream at the sight of my dad . . ." Molly took a staggering breath.

"There was a closet under the stairs. She put me in there, and told me not to make a noise no matter what I heard. She closed the door, and I could hear something being moved in front of it. I heard all sorts of ugly noises. But I definitely remembered what you said to get me to come out." Molly was trembling, but this time, it was with rage, not fear.

"You told me my parents were dead, and that it was my duty to join them. You told me you could get rid of my power for me. When that didn't work, you described eating my dad's brain . . . just to be special like he was. Then you raised your voice like he always used to. With his power. You laughed at me, saying you'd find me eventually. I could hear you traveling all over the house. Then, you screamed with my dad's voice, so loud I thought my ears might burst. It felt like you were everywhere, and that I had to flee the house."

"That was the idea," Sylar admitted.

"I tried to leave while you were screaming. But the door wouldn't move. I fell to the floor. I remembered my promise to be silent. My mom had wanted me to live. Then, you said one thing that has been my nightmare for months. You said, 'You'll never be safe, Molly Walker! I'll find you when you least expect it! No one can escape the boogeyman!' And you laughed. You laughed for a long time. It made me sick. I heard you leave, and I heard the cops come. But I didn't say anything. I _couldn't_ say anything. I kept hearing your voice. I figured if the cops couldn't find me, you couldn't find me either."

"Clever," Sylar said. He didn't smile. That would show smug superiority. He didn't pretend to be impressed with her, or to sympathize with her. She would know it was an act.

"You know Molly, no one had ever beaten me before. I tailed the cops who had you. You were with an FBI agent too. I had encountered her before. She and I had a history. I was angry, but at the same time, I realized something about myself. I wasn't unbeatable. You were a symbol of that. And I decided to make you an offer. I would take you out of FBI custody and talk to you. I knew you could locate people on command, as Mohinder's father's list suggested. If you wanted and loved your ability, I would have you locate the remainder of the list and let you go free. If you were afraid of your power, I would take it."

"Why did you think I didn't kill you instantly upon finding you? Why did you think I struggled so hard to remove you from the building alive, when it would have been so much easier to take your power immediately?"

Molly looked confused, as if her world was being shattered, as she tried to comprehend what he had said. He hadn't been out to kill her the second time?

Sylar kept himself from smirking, knowing she was falling for it. None of it was true of course. The only reason Sylar hadn't killed her immediately was because he had wanted to make an example of the one person who dared to escape him. What better way to do it than to first kidnap her from the FBI building, then to kill her on the building's front door? But things hadn't gone according to plan.

"I wouldn't have killed you then, and I won't kill you now," Sylar lied. Molly looked sick, but she was looking him in the eye, and she wasn't trembling in fear, nor was she quaking in anger. She believed him.

"We're part of a team Molly, and we need to be able to get along. Everyone needs to get along. Now you understand that I won't kill you. I don't even dislike you, and I don't have any intention of harming you. I think it's important that teammates don't kill each other. You may get that, but there's still tension amongst everyone else. And what better way to relieve it than with a good joke?"

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor," Molly said. Her voice was cold, and without fear. Sylar was extremely pleased that she had the guts to say it.

"My sense of humor is a little twisted," he admitted. "But you'll recognize it when you see it."

The song ended. Sylar glanced up to see Mohinder barreling across the dance floor.

SSS

"He didn't harm you did he?" Mohinder asked Molly, very concerned. Sylar had taken Maya away seconds after she had reached him. They were slow dancing at the opposite side of the dance floor. Strangely, Maya didn't seem to be making any protest.

"I'm fine, Mohinder," Molly insisted. "Sylar just wanted to explain some things about me and my parents. You don't have to protect me from him. At least, not until we beat the Company. Then we won't be a team. Once that happens, he might attack me."

"What did he say?" Mohinder prodded. But Molly didn't want to answer. She wasn't ready yet. She hadn't discussed her parents' deaths completely with anyone, not even with the cops. Molly realized she had just spoken calmly to her parents' murderer and felt better for it. It was like clarity, or closure on the matter. She would definitely hate Sylar for as long as she lived. But it was nice to finally understand that even if she hadn't gone into hiding, her mother couldn't have saved herself. She couldn't have barricaded herself in the closet, and if Sylar could tail police, he could certainly find a woman running down the street. Molly had always wondered if she could've prevented her parents' death, but now she knew that there was no way she could have stopped a psycho like Sylar.

"He didn't say anything important. Can we just dance and forget about it?"

SSS

Sylar was slow dancing with Maya and thoroughly enjoying it. Her body was pressed into his as they swayed to the beat. But of course, she wouldn't be dancing in such a manner unless she had an ulterior motive.

"What did you say to Molly?" She asked. Sylar enjoyed the feeling of her whispering in his ear, even if her tone was harsh.

"Nothing that I couldn't have said in front of you. But also nothing Molly would've wanted anyone to hear. I spoke of her parents' death. It's a highly personal topic."

"But—"

"Shhhhh," Sylar calmed Maya. "Just dance."

So dance they did. Maya hated to admit it, but it was highly enjoyable. And Gabriel was wonderful at leading. Maya leaned into him, swaying gently with the beat. Enjoying his close proximity, even if she knew she shouldn't be. Besides, he couldn't see her expression, as her head was on his shoulder. He had no way of knowing how much she was enjoying the dance. But all the same, Maya lectured herself, it wouldn't change anything. She still hated Gabriel, and planned to kill him as soon as the moment seemed right.

But such thoughts of murder were banished by the music, and Maya realized she was having fun for the first time in a long time. When the dance ended, Maya was still completely elated, to the point where she couldn't remember why she hated her dance partner. She had forgotten how he had killed Alejandro, and how he had committed many more murders in the past. It was probably this memory lapse that didn't make her frightened or angry when Gabriel moved his face closer to hers. It was probably why when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

SSS

Sylar was having fun, just dancing with Maya. They weren't dancing in any way that was fancy, but it was a nice dance just the same. When the dance ended, Sylar immediately noticed Maya's far off look, and he recognized her happiness. He sensed a perfect opportunity. So, he leaned in and kissed her. He had expected to shove him away, mortified. He had expected her to be furious and embarrassed, which were rather amusing emotions. He had looked forward to it. He hadn't expected her to kiss him back.

Sylar's mind practically exploded at the possible meanings. He knew she still felt something for him, but to let him kiss her after all he had done . . . that was true love! But Sylar mentally slapped himself at the thought. He didn't care about true love. He just cared about messing with Maya. And it was amusing to contemplate her thoughts as she realized what she was doing. When she quickly pulled away, Sylar was disappointed. The kiss had only lasted three seconds.

Maya stared at him in shock for a few more seconds before her face darkened.

"This doesn't change anything," she snarled at him.

"Agreed," Sylar nodded, "That was an amusing reaction though."

Maya let out an insulted breath of air before stalking across the dance floor back to their seats. Sylar smiled. He was amused, but he also felt sad. A part of him wished that they were still kissing. But Sylar pushed the thought away, cursing Parkman and his meddling. Playing with Maya's mind was good enough. She was a wonderful toy. Sylar did not, repeat NOT need anyone to love him. He was special. And that was good enough.

SSS

A/N: The end of chapter 11. Sorry about any OOC behavior there may be. But the chapter was fun to write just the same. Next chapter: Peter's back in the plot, and the team struggles to find a motel to stay the night.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Well . . . after several months, here it is. I wasn't counting on summer homework when I said I could write more during the summer. Still, I have no plans of abandoning this story. I know it will all be out before the next season of Heroes. But when I will next update, I cannot say. I'm sorry.

**Chapter 12**

Micah hadn't been the same since his mom died. He could admit it; he'd been highly depressed at first. He saw her death as his fault. Monica was constantly trying to cheer him up, but it hadn't worked.

Micah had lost his fascination with superheroes, and with his own powers. He had withdrawn into himself, saying nothing to nobody. He was an emotionless drone, living life on autopilot. Everything seemed to be going downhill . . . and then Hiro had showed up.

Micah had entered his bedroom only to find the strange Japanese man and his companion waiting for him. Micah had gone to scream, but in the blink of an eye, the man was behind him, hand clamped over his mouth. Superpowers. Micah hadn't felt anything on this realization. His only thought had been, _this man could kill me_. He had thought no further. No thoughts of how to escape, no fear of death, just acceptance.

Then the man had begun to speak.

"My name is Hrio Nakamura. I bring a message from the future. How would you like to save the world?"

Micah remembered those words. The words Linderman spoke to him. The words Linderman spoke to him before shooting his father.

Hiro had released Micah. And now, Micah could still remember the exact words the Japanese man had said when they were face to face.

"I know you're very smart Micah. And I know you're good with technology. In the future, the world will be faced with a catastrophe, and there's one man who can find the solution. Problem is, he's a serial killer, and it's unlikely the government will let him live. Unless," Hiro said, removing a diagram from his pocket, "you make this. A behavioral collar, so to speak. Only if this is made, can the world's future savior live."

Micah took the diagram, finally feeling an emotion. Disbelief. He studied the drawings, and the writing. _His_ writing. The problem was, he didn't understand most of it. But the images intrigued him. It looked like a dog collar, but within the device was an entire computer database. A part of the collar extended on, and according to the description, the collar was supposed to attach to the base of the skull. The collar required DNA and medical technology, as well as some metals that were hard to come by.

But it was in his writing. He had written it, in whatever future Hiro had come from. And it was a challenge. Something to do, something to focus on, something to take his mind off of his mother's death.

"I'll make it," He had said. And with those words, Hiro had vanished.

Micah remembered all of this as he added the finishing touches to the collar. He glanced at the bits and pieces of what had once been a TV set, scattered at his side. Hopefully, everyone would forgive him for dismantling their only television. Although, Monica seemed to be convinced that his nonstop work was unhealthy. And true, he had lived off only a few hours of sleep each night, and had hacked every file on DNA technology by day, making sure to cover his tracks. He had even raided a lab for some equipment, though Monica didn't know that. But Micah knew he had to work. He had been lost before he had been given the collar to work on. With it, he had a goal.

Micah didn't think too much about whom the collar was for, or why it was needed. But the collar was designed to monitor changes in DNA. If the DNA changed, the collar would inject its wearer with a drug, and Micah had struggled to procure a knockout drug to load the device with. Then there was the technology he had to use so the device could be made to signal someone else of its deploying of the drug. But that was in its basic stages, as he had no idea where Hiro wanted the alert to be sent.

It was definitely a prototype. Not perfect, but ready to be quickly put into use. Or more ideally, ready to have a more perfected model made with little time. Micah made sure to take notes on everything he did, and to highlight the steps that ultimately led him to create the working collar.

Now all that was left to do was wait. Micah knew Hiro had been visiting him. He always left the collar in his room, and to protect it, he had installed a lock on his door. After his own family had stolen his comics and his dad's medal from under his nose, he wasn't taking any more chances. And it would be infinitely worse if someone got their hands on the collar's technology. But despite the locks, Micah would often open his bedroom door to find his room disturbed, the collar moved ever so slightly. It was then he concluded that Hiro checked up on his progress.

Micah set the collar down on his desk, and wrote a single message on a piece of notebook paper. 'Finished'. Micah placed the paper on top of the collar, and left the room, locking the door behind him. Now all he had to do was wait.

SSS

Peter once again had a mission. To save the world. Except this time, the world didn't need to be saved from Peter himself. The Company was putting everyone at risk. And apparently, the Ford plant in front of him was the most important base to take out. Problem was, it was huge. The thing seemed to go on for miles.

Peter had been exploring the plant in the most inconspicuous way he knew how. He was going on the pretense of wanting to buy a car. Much to a salesman's frustration, Peter had insisted on seeing every car available in the store. During this tour, in which there were many stops to examine a different car, there was very little to hint at the true nature of the Ford plant.

The only remotely suspicious thing was the abundance of 'employees only' signs, and the fact that there was a basement, but there seemed to be no way to get to it. The basement was marked on the Ford map, (seriously, the place needed a map) but no stairs were noted.

So, after a long tour, in which Peter only managed to become more discouraged, Peter decided he couldn't attack the place alone. After briskly telling the salesman he'd be back after a few days to consider his options, Peter left. He would need an army to help him. _Tomorrow_, Peter decided, _I'll call Claire. And Matt. And whoever else I can think of. The Company won't survive._

SSS

What Peter didn't know, was that an army was coming already. But as it was, the said army was struggling to find a place to stay. They only managed to find a sum of two hundred dollars cash between them, and that couldn't exactly buy a space at a nice motel.

Mohinder finally made a decision, and pulled off at an exit promising a highly affordable rate. If they were to stop now, they would only have a little over four hours to drive the next morning.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Elle began humming happily. Sylar rolled his eyes, and glanced over at Maya. She wasn't looking at him. Once again, he was being ignored. But at least this time, she wasn't seething with hatred. That isn't to say that she wasn't angry, but she seemed to be more confused than anything else.

"Are we there?" Molly muttered sleepily from the backseat.

"We're at a motel," Matt informed her. Slowly, everyone climbed out of the van, stretching their cramped limbs.

"Don't get too comfortable," Mohinder said, heading for the entrance. "For all we know, we won't be able to afford a room."

Silently, everyone followed his lead. Inside, the motel was nice enough. It had simple furnishings, but they were in shape. There was a sitting room to the left, and there seemed to be a dining room beyond that. Right in front of them, was the sign in desk.

"Hello," Mohinder said, stepping forward. "How much for a room?"

The man behind the desk appeared bored, as he recited simply, "One hundred for one queen size bed, one fifty for two."

"I've got two hundred dollars," Mohinder said, as if looking for a solution.

"I'm sorry sir," the man replied, not sounding sorry at all. "Even assuming two people per bed, there's no way all six of you can afford your own space. We don't have extra beds to wheel into the room."

Mohinder hesitated, then turned to the rest of them.

"This may be the best deal we get," Matt said.

"I don't feel like wandering around all night," Elle said. "That would defeat the purpose. We're here to get sleep."

"And you don't want to be around me when I'm sleep deprived," Sylar said with a slight smirk.

Mohinder sighed, before turning back to the man. "We'll take the room for four."

The man simply handed over a set of keys. "Room 109," he said. "Down the hallway on your right. You'll find it."

"Right," Mohinder said, taking the keys. "Let's get our luggage."

Everyone headed back to the van to pick up the bags. Sylar wouldn't be surprised if all of them were Elle's. But just as he was about to head out and help, Maya put out a hand to stop him. Sylar turned to her, but she said nothing as everyone filed back outside.

"Yes?" Sylar asked, patience thinning.

"I want to make something clear to you," Maya said in a barely audible whisper. "If you think we're going to share a bed, you're going to be disappointed," she ended in a snarl.

Sylar felt the insane urge to laugh. While it would be amusing to force her into such a position, it would hardly help them work together. All the tension he had relieved would be back tenfold.

But Sylar prided himself on rarely becoming frazzled, so he raised an eyebrow, keeping his face impassive.

"Why Maya, what sort of man do you take me for?"

"I don't know. You kiss me one moment, you shoot me the next. Now you're kissing me again. You tell me what kind of man you are, Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sylar asked. Only then did it occur to him that Maya had yet to speak his name since they had been reacquainted. "Well Maya, you've just told me what you think of me," Sylar said. "Everyone else calls me Sylar. The name of a serial killer. You obviously don't see me as a killer Maya. Don't deny it. You do not use the killer's name. The only question you have is, who am I more like? Sylar, or Gabriel?"

Maya waited expectantly for him to continue. But Sylar had no intention of doing so. He headed to the front door, just as Mohinder, Matt, Molly and Elle entered once more, each carrying bags.

"Is there anything left?" Sylar asked, just to be polite. After all, he wanted to keep on their good side as much as he could.

"No," Mohinder answered. "But you can carry this one."

Sylar accepted the offered bag, and they all set off towards the room. Number 109 had a rickety doorframe, and the wood finish on the door was peeling. Mohinder dropped the luggage, and removed the cardkey. He had to put the key in the slot several times before the door unlocked.

Once the door was opened, everyone walked in, and placed the luggage on the floor, not looking at each other. Only when every delay tactic had been used did they turn to look at the room. There was a small bathroom in the corner, a desk against the wall, and two queen size beds in the center of the room. But of all the room's features, the beds got the most attention. They were decent size beds, with ugly floral sheets, and not much to look at. But the decency of the beds wasn't in question. There was only one thought on everyone's mind. Who sleeps where?

To Sylar, the answer was obvious. He and Elle weren't trusted, so they would take the floor on opposite sides of the room. Opposite sides because Sylar didn't trust Elle, or trust himself around her. Maya and Molly would take the bed closer to Elle to put all of the girls together. Elle couldn't be trusted around men, and Maya and Molly seemed to get on well enough. Matt and Mohinder would take the bed closer to Sylar, with Matt nearer to Sylar than Mohinder. That way everyone would feel comforted that a mind reader was close at hand to protect everyone, and Mohinder would feel less threatened. It seemed Matt and Mohinder had been parenting Molly together, so it shouldn't be _as_ awkward.

But of course, no one else seemed to know what to do. This amused Sylar greatly. The solution was so simple to him. Sure, his solution wouldn't make everyone happy, but there was no solution that would. At least his way, he knew they'd all wake up in the morning.

The one who was having the greatest trouble coming up with a solution was Mohinder. His brow was furrowed, and he was biting his lip. It was a very comical expression. And it was then that Sylar came up with an idea. Humor is the best medicine after all, and a fast way to relieve tension. If everything went well, the group would be livened up. If not . . . well, things would get messy. And Sylar knew his sense of humor wasn't generally accepted. But now was the time to act.

_If you're reading my mind Parkman, I'm joking_, Sylar thought for good measure. Now for the show.

Sylar glided over to Mohinder, along the way trying to clue Molly into the fact that he wasn't being serious. It would be no good to scare her off again. He stopped directly in front of the doctor, and quickly rearranged his face into a proper expression for his plan.

"Mohinder," Sylar purred, in a soft almost seductive voice.

"What?" Mohinder asked, finally actually looking at Sylar instead of staring off into space.

"You know, all you have to do is ask. No need to look so worried about the outcome."

"Ask what?"

SSS

Molly was bone tired. That big meal and all that dancing had worn her out. Especially dancing with Sylar. That was one of the most stressful moments of her life. And though she now was more comfortable around Sylar, more assured he wouldn't kill her, she still tended to watch him out of the corner of her eye. So when he began to approach Mohinder, she immediately noticed. And then, Sylar did something strange.

He winked at her. Molly blinked, thinking she had imagined it. Sylar was now acting completely normal. But why had be winked? No one else had seemed to notice. It _had_

to be her imagination . . .

And then Sylar spoke. "Mohinder," he purred, and Molly was horrified. He sounded like the leading man in a romance movie at the moment he tells the girl he loves her. That wasn't normal. And then Molly remembered. Sylar had said he had a sense of humor. Maybe she was about to see it in practice?

SSS

"Ask what?" Mohinder asked, a completely bewildered expression on his face. Sylar knew the next line would require his total concentration to refrain from laughing at the expression that was likely to appear on Mohinder's face, and on everybody else's. So, he hardened his resolve, and plowed on.

"To share a bed with me," Sylar said as if it was obvious, and that everybody knew it was on Mohinder's mind. Mohinder managed to choke on his own spit. Sylar kept a seductive smirk in place, not one stray laugh threatening to escape, despite the loud gasp that came from behind him. Whether it was Maya or Elle, Sylar couldn't tell.

"I know you want my body bad, Mohinder," Sylar purred, "You're a devilishly beautiful man yourself." Mohinder started turning purple as blood rose to his face, both in anger and embarrassment. Sylar knew he would say something at any moment, so he quickly continued, somehow managing to keep his voice from sounding rushed.

"Don't worry about privacy, Mohinder. You'd be amazing what can go on under the sheets unnoticed." Now Mohinder looked distinctly ill. Once again, Sylar tried hard not to laugh.

"You're homosexual?!" shrieked Elle. She had kissed Sylar. Now she felt a strong urge to wipe her lips clean. That was just . . . awkward. To her, kissing a gay guy would be like kissing another girl. But as soon as Elle processed these thoughts, her mind managed to fill itself with ideas of going shopping with Sylar. Weren't gay men supposed to love to shop? Elle immediately began to berate herself for clinging to the stereotype.

Maya looked like she was about to have a heart attack. It was one thing to have a straight man lead you on, another thing completely to be seduced by a gay one. It definitely answered her question about who Gabriel was more like. If Gabriel was gay, then Gabriel never existed. Now, he was just Sylar.

Unlike the two girls, Matt was biting his lower lip, trying not to laugh at everyone's expression. But Molly beat him to the laughter.

Everyone turned in shock as Molly exploded into a fit of giggles, and slowly slid to the floor, rocking with the force of each laugh. Soon she was clutching her side, tears of mirth sliding down her face, her laughter replaced by gasps for air. She had needed to laugh. She hadn't laughed in such a long time.

At Molly's cue, Sylar lost the seductive look and smiled, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"Wait a minute . . ." Mohinder began, feeling lost. He didn't like being the butt of a joke.

"Sorry, not gay," Sylar said, with a no-hard-feelings sort of grin. "I don't like you that way." A conspiratorial crossed Sylar's face as he thought of something to add. "Besides, we all know you have a huge crush on Matt."

"I do not!" Mohinder protested. But it was too late. Everyone, even Maya and Elle, were now laughing. Watching everybody else laugh managed to bring a smile to Mohinder's face. Though he didn't like being the butt of a joke, he knew he wasn't being laughed at. They were sort of laughing with him, but only if he laughed too. So Mohinder let out a chuckle, and was surprised to find it was genuine. Molly wasn't afraid, and everyone seemed to be unified. That was worth any price. And thinking back, it was sort of funny that he could have fallen for Sylar's act.

SSS

Elle was slightly disappointed. She had never had a gay friend, and wondered what it would be like. But then again, she reasoned, she had never had a friend at all. But the overall feeling was a happy one, and Elle was filled with a sense of fondness for Sylar. As well as being powerful, he could be funny too!

SSS

Maya felt her heart rate slowing down to normal. She was angry at Gabriel for doing that to her, but at the same time, she couldn't help but smile. Now that she knew the truth behind it, the look on Mohinder's face was priceless. Now she knew something new about Gabriel. He liked manipulating Mohinder, but he seemed to enjoy everybody's laughter more. But was he gay or wasn't he? Could she really prove it one way or another? He was a marvelous actor.

Matt finally calmed down enough to choke out a few words. "I know you don't love me Mohinder, at least not that way." Matt took in Maya's confused expression. "Don't worry Maya, it's just his sense of humor. He's straight."

"How do you know?" Maya asked, sounding surprised.

Matt snorted. "Mind reader, remember?" And then he leaned forward so only Maya could hear. "And he may not admit it, not even to himself, but he loves you." Maya's eyes widened. More like Gabriel then. From the way everyone described Sylar, he couldn't feel love.

"He'd kill you anyway for your power, though. Just to let you know." Matt added.

_Oh well_, Maya thought to herself. _At least there's some good in there. I'll just have to be careful around him. And unless he reforms fast, he still needs to die_.

Mohinder smiled, actually incredibly happy. No one was arguing, no one was panicked. Whether Sylar had intended it or not, he had created peace where Mohinder had thought it was impossible for it to exist. But after all that, they still didn't know who was sleeping where.

"And don't worry, Mohinder. I know where everyone can sleep so they won't kill each other," Sylar said.

Mohinder sighed at Sylar's know-it-all tone. It was going to be a long night.

SSS

The next morning, Peter started making phone calls. He needed all the help he could get. The first person he thought of to call was Claire. As much as he hated dragging his niece into the mess, she was invincible as far as he could tell. Both of them were, and as long as they could keep their brains intact, and didn't lose their heads, they could be unstoppable.

Peter punched in Claire's cell phone number. She had given it to him the last time they had been acquainted. It rang several times before she picked up.

"Hello?" Claire's voice came over the line.

"Hey Claire."

"Peter?" Claire sounded surprised and wary. Peter supposed that made sense. The last time he had called her, it was to deliver news of her biological father's death. Peter quickly pushed the thought away to avoid becoming choked up.

"I have a mission Claire. A mission where a lot of lives could be saved. I need you to help me take down the Company."

There was silence on the other end.

"Claire?" Peter asked.

"I'm here," she sighed. "Look, Peter, the last time I threatened to expose the Company, things didn't turn out so well. My father barely gets time to see me, and my boyfriend is being forced to work for them."

"But if we attack, it could set them free! If we win—"

"That's a very big _if_ Peter. If we _lose_, which is far more likely, things will only get much worse for everyone."

"But Claire, it won't be just us," Peter reasoned. "I'm going to put a call in with Matt Parkman, the mind reader. He could help. We _can_ win this! Don't you want to take them down?"

Claire hesitated before answering. "I do want to," she said, anger dripping from each word. "But the risk is high." Claire sighed. "But maybe you're right. Maybe we will win."

Claire sighed once more. "My dad's visiting again tonight. I'll ask him about it. But Peter, I'm telling you now. If he doesn't like the idea of this attack, I won't be helping you. I'll call you back and give you my decision later tonight."

"I understand," Peter said as relief flooded him at getting her partial agreement. "Tell him I'll have Matt Parkman. And that we're going after the facility in Columbus Ohio."

"Is that all?" Claire asked.

"That's all for now."

"Peter?" Cllaire asked, a desperate note in her voice. Peter waited for a continuation, but Claire was silent.

"Claire?" he prodded.

"Be careful," she choked out. "I can't lose you too." And with that, she hung up.

SSS

Morning at the hotel was eventful to say the least. They weren't awoken by the alarm clock, though they had set the alarm. They were awoken by a high-pitched, slightly muffled scream.

Sylar woke up immediately, jumping to his feet, his hands aglow with the power of ice. Pain arched through his stiff back at the sudden movement. Sleeping on the floor wasn't fun. Elle was rising off the floor from the other side of the room, a dazed expression on her face. Maya and Molly blinked sleepily. And by the time the girls woke up, Sylar had already analyzed the situation, and began to laugh.

It seemed Matt had managed to roll on top of Mohinder in his sleep. The muffled girly scream had come from Mohinder, who was being crushed under Matt's weight. Everyone watched in amusement as Mohinder struggled to free himself, and Matt snored on, completely oblivious.

"Help," Mohinder finally choked out. Sylar, who didn't want such an amusing scene to vanish, helped only reluctantly. He telekinetically lifted Matt off Mohinder. This caused Matt to yell out, and a very thankful Mohinder to roll to the floor, coughing and spluttering.

"Put me down!" Matt cried out. Sylar raised an eyebrow, and dropped him unceremoniously back onto the bed.

"Ouch!" Matt yelped. But it hadn't hurt. It was his automatic reaction to being dropped.

Molly, Maya and Elle were still giggling. Mohinder scowled, stood up, walked across the room, and locked himself in the bathroom.

"He's not a morning person, is he?" Elle asked.

"Not at all," Sylar answered before Matt could speak. "I spent a few days with him, and he about ripped my head off each morning. Someone should get him a coffee. It will improve his mood."

Maya felt uncomfortable at Gabriel's casual tone. Things shouldn't be so casual. They were on a mission to take out an organization. Plus, several in the room had killed before. Things should be anything but casual. And yet they were. Maya had even found herself thinking how wonderful Gabriel's laugh was. Perhaps that was a good thing that everyone was so comfortable around one another. It meant no one was killing one another.

Everyone had slept in their clothes, most not having anything to change into, and those that did were to uncomfortable to be anything but completely dressed with such company.

"First thing we're doing, before taking on the Company or anything," Sylar grumbled as he straightened out his shirt, "Is lifting new clothes."

"Don't you mean buying?" Maya asked. Gabriel looked at her, and Maya felt shivers go down her spine. He wasn't smirking, or looking at all evil, like he had ever since she had accused him of killing her brother. He looked human. He looked like Gabriel again. And for the first time, Maya realized, he didn't look as if he was planning something. It was a look he had always had before, and now it was gone. Maybe that meant it would be more peaceful traveling with him?

But Maya quickly focused to hear Gabriel's answer.

"Buy with what money, Maya? We've only got fifty dollars left."

"And that's for breakfast," Matt quickly said. "I'm starved."

"Food first," Molly yawned. Sylar was amused to see how fearless she now was. And now, facing the Company was no longer a far off dream. They were traveling to the Company base that day. Sylar knew once they got there they would need to figure out the best course of action, and then there was always—

Suddenly the song _Holding out for a Hero_ erupted throughout the room. Everyone jumped. The bathroom door flew open, and Mohinder exited, still toweling off his hands. In unison, the whole room glared at Matt who sheepishly pulled his cell phone from a small luggage bag.

"You idiot!" Elle raged in a quiet hiss. "Why do you have your phone on?! The Company is probably tracking the signal right now! They know you're missing! Turn it off!"

"No," Matt said, snapping the phone open. Elle looked as if she were about to implode, but her expression changed the moment Matt addressed the man on the line.

"Hello, Peter."

"Peter Petrelli?" Elle asked, remembering their electrifying kiss.

"Who?" Maya asked, now completely lost.

"Peter Petrelli," Sylar seethed. The man who refused to die. Sylar had impaled him with a shard of glass, only to get taken out himself. Later, he found Peter still alive. Sylar wanted New York to explode. He had wanted to be president and therefore, be the most special person in existence. A dream that now seemed so far away. However, now that he had his powers back, he might be able to return to that dream . . .

But that was besides the point. Sylar had intended to take out New York, and only Peter was standing in his way. As they fought, Sylar was surprised to be losing. He had been winded with a parking meter that a woman had delivered with a blow no doubt enhanced with super strength. Then Peter had began to punch him. Sylar remembered being dazed, and unable to stop Peter from delivering each blow. But he also remembered getting happier with each punch. Peter was losing his temper. And Sylar knbew two things. One: Peter had every power he had. Two: the nuclear power was harder to control under any strong emotion, especially anger and fear.

Then Sylar had laughed, because he knew he had won the war. Peter's hands began to glow. Sylar had been ecstatic. He hated the idea of killing so many, even if they would further his goal. Sure, he had built up to it, imagined it, tried to glorify it, but unlike with his other killings, he couldn't convince himself he could enjoy it. So he had laughed, and known that Peter would be the terrible villain to destroy New York. And he, Sylar, would be the hero leading people out of the darkness. He could survive the blast because nuclear power doesn't affect one who contains the energy. And debris could be kept away from him with telekinesis. It was perfect!

But then, there was the Japanese man with the sword. Sylar knew he was dying, but he was incapable of giving up. He wasted his last bit of energy ensuring Peter wouldn't be killed, so New York could properly explode. If New York exploded as planned, Sylar knew there would still be a chance, if he survived, of becoming president. But of course, Peter ruined it all, and didn't destroy the city. And now, he was back to taunt Sylar again, and was on the other end of that stupid phone.

It took all of his self-control not to smash the phone then and there. Matt had been silent so far, but then he spoke.

"That's a coincidence, because I've already got a group of people here with the same idea." More silence. "That's right. They all want to take the Company out." Silence once more. "Oh, we've got all sorts of talent here. We've got Mohinder, who knows some inside Company secrets, Molly can locate anyone, but I don't want her involved, we've got Elle . . . oh, you've met? . . . yes, well believe it or not, she wants to help and I have no reason to believe she's lying. We've got a woman named Maya who releases a virus ten times worse than the black plague . . . yes, she can control it . . ." Matt turned from the phone.

"Maya, can you direct your attacks?" he asked.

Maya blanched. Somehow, she had forgotten that taking down the Company involved killing people. _But_, Maya soothed herself, _it's for the good of all those with abilities._

"I can get close to one person, and only affect them," she said, then paused to think. "I can learn."

"She can," Matt said into the phone. There was more silence. "Alright. We'll meet you there." Matt hung up.

"You forgot Gabriel," Maya protested.

"There's good reason he didn't mention me," Sylar snarled. "Peter and I have a history. I refuse to work with him."

"You have to!" Matt spluttered. "We need all the help we can get!" Sylar was about to snap back when Elle interrupted.

"Seriously Sylar, there's a good chance we won't all make it out alive. That Company facility has more security and weapons than it seems to be humanly possible. Just think! You and Peter! Together, you'd be unstoppable!"

"Only problem Elle, is I want his power. I _need_ it. There's no way I can guarantee that I can resist killing him."

"But you have his power!" Elle said, somewhat shocked.

"No," Sylar insisted. "For one thing, he's collecxted a whole assortment of powers I don't have. For another, Peter doesn't have to kill. He can pick up abilities without knowing it. And it doesn't corrupt his DNA to do so. At the rate I'm going, I'll accidentally alter one vital part of my DNA structure, and erase a power, or become unstable. I _need_ his power."

"Gabriel, please," Maya begged. "It seems this Peter could help us. I don't want you to murder for personal gain. We must only kill the enemy. Right now, Peter isn't your enemy."

Sylar looked at her. Somehow, she had managed to pull off a wonderful puppy-dog-eyes expression that was almost heartbreaking. How was it that she could toy with his emotions so easily? He was going soft. And then Maya switched tactics and said something unexpected.

"If you try to kill him, or anyone of us, I _will_ kill you, and I will not hesitate."

Sylar could see the truth in her eyes. He admired her. Gone was the naïve Maya he had known. She had grown into something wonderful. And powerful. She wasn't as trusting, and she had it in her to be manipulative, and to be a killer. He had taught her well. But yet, he could still see within her the loving, caring and understanding persona he had come to know. She was truly a wonderful person. And she could kill him. Sylar knew this. He also knew, deep in his heart, that he and Peter would make an unstoppable team if they could put aside their differences and work together.

"I understand," Sylar finally said. "And get rid of that cell Matt. Elle is right, it's just asking for trouble."

Matt turned the phone off. The room was silent.

"So what now?" Molly asked.

"Breakfast!" Matt enthusiastically inputted. Sylar sighed. He knew that it was going to be a very taxing day.

SSS

A/N: So that's the end of that chapter. I really am sorry for keeping you waiting. There's at least two chapters left, a maximum of five. All of them will be out, however many there will be, before the next season of Heroes. Once again, I apologize.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Peter sat inside Bruger's Bagels, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. They were supposed to be here by now. Seated beside him were Claire and Noah Bennet, both of whom looked just as impatient as he was.

"I swear, Peter," Noah growled, "If you don't have this promised army, and if we can't come up with a plan, all deals are off. I'm not charging into this recklessly. Taking down the Company takes thought and careful planning."

"I told you," Peter said, becoming more annoyed, "That they're coming. They're just a bit late."

As if on cue, the door to the restaurant opened, and Matt Parkman stepped through.

"Finally," Peter sighed. Matt quickly located them, nodded, and approached the table.

"Peter," he acknowledged, and then he sat down.

"I think you remember me," he said to Noah and Claire.

"Yes, we met under rather unfortunate circumstances," Noah nodded. "But you came around in the end."

"Thanks," Matt smiled.

"Enough with the pleasantries," Peter whispered, leaning forward. "I want to get started as soon as possible. Where are the people you mentioned?"

"They're shopping . . . at Walmart."

"What for?" Peter asked surprised.

"Well, one of our number didn't like the clothes we so graciously lent him, so he's stealing another pair.

"He's _stealing_?" Claire asked taken aback.

"Who is?" Noah asked. Noah had listened to Peter's list of people Matt said had joined their cause. The only male besides Matt himself was Mohinder, and Mohinder had never struck Noah as the type to steal clothes.

"Um . . ." Matt hesitated. "Now, you have to trust me on this . . . we took all the help we could get . . ." Matt twiddled his thumbs nervously.

"Um . . . there's a man . . . who seeks revenge on the Company. He agreed to work with us until we manage to take down the organization. Yes, he's a criminal . . . but he's helping us out."

"Who is he?" Noah growled, and Matt swallowed nervously. Within Noah's mind, he could see all of the terrible things the man had ever done to a human being. Some were downright brutal, and Matt feared he would soon be on the receiving end.

Matt took a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke.

"We have Sylar."

SSS

Claire's mind went blank. Sylar? He had to be kidding. But Matt didn't look like he was kidding.

"Sylar?" Peter asked slowly, as if to make sure he heard correctly. Matt nodded. "The same Sylar who tried to kill me?"

"That, I don't know. Did the Sylar you knew fall in love, play practical jokes, and dance?" Matt knew how dorky that sentence sounded. But he wanted to make sure the trio knew that Sylar wasn't all about slicing people's heads open. He needed to imput any positive aspect of the villain he could think of. And there wasn't much.

"Hey," Matt said, "I've picked his brain, and he's definitely twisted. He suffers from a huge inferiority complex, he feels he's never good or special enough, he's never content, and he views human emotions as weaknesses. But his thirst for revenge against the Company is all consuming. He'll play nice with you if he sees it as the only way to take down the Company. And he does see it as the only way. Promise."

Noah felt his anger rising. They were expecting him to work with Sylar? The benefits may seem to be greater than the downfalls at this point in time, but what happened when the Company was gone? But Noah knew one thing, one thing that made him put aside the risks of teaming with Sylar. With Sylar on their side, they couldn't lose.

Claire swallowed nervously. "Do you think he'll try to kill me?"

"Um . . . he won't. We made a deal, and he's made it with out the slightest thought of slipping up so far. Only . . . I didn't know you would be here, so he doesn't know you're coming. He only knows about Peter . . . so we'll have to wait and see."

"Well," Noah said, clapping his hands together. "This should be interesting."

SSS

"Come on Molly, there is no way this looks intimidating!" Sylar sighed exasperated. The entire team had reluctantly agreed to take him to get new clothes. Mohinder's were truly bothering him. Everyone else was pointlessly milling about the store, but for some reason Molly had insisted on helping him shop. And Sylar was getting more furious by the second. She wouldn't let him buy the all black ensemble he had wanted. In fact, she had been rejecting almost everything he picked out.

Sylar had very much wanted to get rid of her, teamwork be damned. But then, she had made a very good point. Sylar had said he wanted to come off as a hero. But every outfit he picked made him look dangerous and evil. Sylar understood the point of looking like a hero in the Company's takedown. It may be the only way to keep himself safe from the authorities long enough to go into hiding. If he was in the background of the buildings takedown, the FBI would have no problem arresting him if they suspected him of being the serial killer they had hunted for so long. But if he was a hero, they may be reluctant enough to take him in that he would have time to flee the country.

Though Sylar didn't like the idea of leaving America, he knew it was a worthy trade off for revenge against the Company. There were special people everywhere.

"It looks perfect!" Molly insisted. That sentence snapped Sylar from his thoughts.

"I liked the wife beater better," he said, trying his hardest not to sound whiny, or angry. And he felt both of those emotions very strongly.

He was wearing dark blue jeans, black tennis shoes, and a black button up shirt. He made sure to leave several buttons undone, and the shirt untucked, but he still didn't like the look.

"Mr. Sylar," Molly sighed, sounding impatient herself. "This is the happy medium. I don't know what is with your boot fetish, but they really don't go with jeans. They look silly. Jeans are casual. They're what most people wear. You don't want to look like you're wearing a costume. And the shirt is black, dark, just how you like it. Because of the style of the shirt, you look sophisticated and well put together. Because you left it unbuttoned and, you can look intimidating and powerful at the same time. It's the perfect public image for the cameras. Besides, aren't you tired of walking in and out of that dressing room?"

Sylar was very tired of it. He felt like he had tried on every article of clothing in the store. Every time he came out, Molly would run off and get more clothes. Every time she left, Sylar could see Mohinder glaring at him several clothing racks away. Like Sylar would be stupid enough to do anything in a department store.

Sylar sighed again.

"Why can't I wear this one?" Sylar asked, holding up a wifebeater.

Molly rolled her eyes. Normally Sylar would attack her for such an action, but some twisted part of his mind was starting to respect Molly. She was brave enough to stand up to him now. And though he hated to admit it, she probably knew more about clothes shopping than he did.

"You can't wear it because the men that wear them are usually going for the tough guy look. And as much as you want that look, you have to be subtle about it. You want to be the hero, remember? Heroes don't wear wife beaters. Well . . . maybe they do in some movies . . . but most of them don't, OK?"

Now it was Sylar's turn to roll his eyes. "What would you know, you're twelve," he half snarled. Molly shrugged, smiling cheekily at him. The nerve of that little girl was astounding.

But then Sylar saw something that made him take all of his thoughts off Molly. Peter and Claire were headed right for him. And there was Mr. Bennet . . . the man who had locked him up, taunted him, and nearly had him killed. Why were they here? Matt had said nothing about Claire or Bennet. Worse, Sylar hated all three people. He wanted to kill all of them so badly . . .

But if he acted now, everything he worked for would be ruined. The Company would succeed. And the Company had wronged him far more than these three ever had. So, Sylar forced his mind to go blank, and tried to think soothing thoughts.

_They're old friends_, he tried to brainwash himself. _You don't hate them_. Sylar plastered a smile on his face.

"Why hello Claire," he said, struggling to keep all aggression out of his voice. "I could use a second opinion. You see, Molly thinks this is an appropriate look for taking down the Company, and showing up on TV. I want to look intimidating, but I also want to look like a hero when the Company falls. So, what do you think?" Sylar asked. He groaned inwardly. Surely he could have thought of a better way to talk pleasantly. Why couldn't he have babbled about the weather like a normal person?

SSS

Claire was in shock. Had Sylar just asked her how he _looked_? Claire had been expecting a violent showdown, in which Sylar snarled threats and peace had to be negotiated. Claire was completely blown away by this approach. And she was simply blown away by his presence in the store.

Claire had only ever seen Sylar in shadow, or at a distance. She had never even seen his face clearly, unless you counted when she passed his body to get to Peter when he was about to explode. She had expected Sylar to be a whole lot uglier. But seeing him now, she would have said he looked like an average guy. Still . . . Somehow, even though he looked normal, Claire could feel power radiating from him. She couldn't tell what it was that made him so impressive. Maybe it was the unidentifiable glint in his eye, or maybe it was the way he stood. His slight smile seemed both endearing and threatening. It was an odd combination of emotions to instill, and Claire knew he would immediately catch the attention of a curious public audience.

"If . . ." Claire swallowed nervously. "If you're trying to be charming, yet impressive at the same time, it's a good look for you."

"Ha!" Molly cried out triumphantly. Claire looked over at her. Who was she? Wasn't she a bit young to be taking out the Company?

"Wait a minute," Peter snarled stepping forward. Sylar became nervous. Not because he feared what Peter could do to him, but because he feared what he might do to Peter. Sylar knew he couldn't afford to screw up now.

"You're shopping for a proper outfit for the occasion of killing people!"

"Taking out the Company," Sylar injected. "There's a difference."

"So tell me Sylar," Peter said coldly. "When you wanted to blow up New York, did you specifically _dress_ for the occasion?"

"Of course I did," Sylar snarled, stepping closer to Peter so that he could glare at him more directly. "Such an outfit made me look impressive, didn't it? It was highly appropriate for a doomsday. Black, cold, and unforgiving."

"So let me get this straight," Peter snarled. "You were actually wearing a costume, like a comic book villain, to look _impressive_ when you blew up New York?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way," Sylar said, swearing silently at his own stupidity. He was trying to back down, because as Peter spoke something horrific started happening. Peter's eyes were glowing orange. So were his hands. And a nuclear explosion was _not_ what he needed right now.

"Peter?" Matt said nervously.

"Peter stop!" Noah commanded. But Sylar feared Peter was too far-gone. Sylar watched in horror as Peter got closer and closer to the peak of an uncontrolled explosion. Sylar didn't know how to contain it. He knew that _he_ would survive, but the team he had spent so long gaining the trust of would perish. And that couldn't happen.

Sylar desperately raked his brain for ideas when— Peter's eyes started fading to black. Huh? Then the answer came to him. Maya's power.

SSS

Maya had been observing Gabriel and Molly shop from a distance. It was really interesting to see how much Gabriel cared about his appearance. Sad, really. He cared too much about what other people thought, and it was what made him the murderer he was today. If only he didn't have to be special. If only he didn't have to impress other people.

Such were the thoughts on Maya's mind when she saw two men and a teenage girl approach Gabriel. She knew one of the men had to be Peter, but she wasn't sure who the other two were. She watched as they spoke. And then . . . the younger man's hands started glowing orange. Maya didn't know enough about the man to know what he was doing, but it seemed safe to infer whatever he was up to wasn't good. He might kill off Gabriel!

Normally Maya would question herself about why she cared so much about Gabriel. But at the moment, she didn't have enough time. She had to stop that man. In most cases, Maya would stop her power at all costs. But now she sought it out, and focused very hard at the glowing man, willing the sickness into him. He had to be stopped.

SSS

Sylar knew it was Maya's power that had activated. Peter's hands were slowly fading back to their normal color, and the strength seemed to drain right out of him. But something was wrong. Sylar didn't feel sick. In fact, the only person the disease seemed to be affecting was Peter. Sylar watched in shock as black fluid leaked from Peter's eyes, and he collapsed into a clothes rack, breathing heavily. And then, while everyone watched Peter helplessly, the black started fading to brown.

"I didn't kill him did I?' A scared voice sounded behind Sylar. He turned to see Maya looking concerned.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to stop him!" Maya looked tearful. But the black streaks on her face were faded, and the plague showed no signs of coming back.

"Impressive!" Noah said, studying Maya carefully.

"You've gained a lot of control," Sylar complimented. "And . . . I think you saved our lives."

"Are you OK?" Claire asked Peter. Peter stood up straight, breathing heavily. Claire held his hand, a concerned look on her face. But Peter only had eyes for Maya. Ignoring Claire, he looked deep into her eyes.

"Thank you," he said, gratitude dripping from every word. "You stopped me from becoming a murderer. I'm Peter," he said, offering his hand.

Maya didn't like the look in Peter's eyes. It almost seemed like . . . no. It didn't _seem_ like anything. Maya was _certain_ the man had fallen in love with her. Just like that. She didn't like it. What sort of man fell in love that quickly?

But those feelings didn't distract Maya as she reached out to shake Peter's hand.

"I'm Maya."

Sylar didn't like the look in Peter's eyes either. For some reason, he found himself hating the man even more. And even worse, when he saw that Maya didn't seem interested in Peter, it made him . . . happy? Triumphant? That was all wrong. Those were feelings he should have only if he was in love with Maya. Which he wasn't. But Sylar knew such a thought was futile. He knew how things worked. He wasn't stupid. He knew what denial was, and he knew that he had to face the facts. It was the time to admit it. He was in love wih Maya. _And that_, Sylar mused to himself, _is a problem._

SSS

Forty five minutes later, Sylar, Elle, Molly, Mohinder, Matt, Maya, Peter, Noah and Claire had all gathered in a McDonald's to discuss plans. The best place to talk about private things was in the open, as people were less likely to listen in if you didn't appear secretive. Noah had ended up paying for Sylar's new clothes as it didn't seem wise to let the Company win simply because someone got arrested for shoplifting.

"Let's get this party started!" Elle said, eyes glowing with excitement. "I can't wait any longer to attack this Company!"

"OK," Peter said softly, leaning in. "I've got a plan, and within a day, I promise the Company will fall."

As everyone listed, every occupant at the table became more excited. Bennet interrupted every once in a while to make some changes, while others protested that they weren't being allowed to do enough, or were being asked too much. But eventually, a plan was agreed on. Everyone smiled as they thought over how great their plan was. The Company was going down.

SSS

That's it for this chapter. Thanks for waiting so patiently.

Next up, we finally get to attack the Company. Will everything go well, or will there be unexpected challenges?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: The rest of the chapters are coming!! I'm still very hopeful that I'll have them all by Monday. And without further ado, let the chapter begin!!

**Chapter 14**

"This isn't fair," Claire complained.

"Claire, our job is just as important as theirs," Mohinder consoled half-heartedly. He knew it would be no use. They had been having the same argument every ten minutes for the past hour.

"But I can't die!" Claire hissed the now familiar line. "Don't tell me I'd do better out here than in battle!"

Mohinder sighed, and Molly watched the conversation silently. Out of the whole group, they were the only three who were never going to enter the Ford plant. Their job was a simple one. When the time was right, they would call the media to the scene. Of course, they had to figure out how to get a camera crew to the scene first. So, the whole group was sitting side by side, tucked away into a small Internet café, researching the matter.

_Boring_, Claire sighed. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to fight, so much as she felt the _need_ to fight. The Company had torn her whole family apart. She wanted revenge. But her loving father had insisted she stay behind, to keep her safe. Her powerless, _mortal_, father.

"You, Claire, can best convince the media that there's a government conspiracy," Mohinder said, copying a phone number and address off of the website he was browsing. "If need be, you can demonstrate your ability."

"But only if you have to," Molly put in so suddenly, that everyone stared at her in shock. She hadn't spoken for the whole hour that they had been at the café. Shrinking down in her chair slightly at the sudden attention, Molly shrugged uncomfortably.

"Well, I just think it's better to try for some story about a celebrity sighting at the Ford plant first. Or maybe something about a horrible catastrophe right outside Ford's doors, because I don't know how many celebrities there are in Ohio. I do know that if Claire shows them her ability, we'll get so bogged down with questions and cameras, we'll never get them to Ford in time."

"That's very perceptive of you, Molly," Mohinder said proudly. Molly smiled shyly. Claire just sighed once more, resigned to her unexciting role.

"Hey," Mohinder said, reaching over and placing his hand on Claire's shoulder. "It may not be much of a job. But it's _our_ job. And it's important that we get it right."

SSS

It was late, just as the building closed, when Peter showed up. He stood outside the parking lot at the Ford plant. He was surprised the city hadn't suspected something of the Ford plant by now, because there were many more security guards than was necessary. And for each guard, Peter suspected, there was a camera. Elle stepped up beside Peter, trembling with excitement, electricity crackling. She couldn't wait to show up her father, to prove she was better than him, and that she didn't need his approval. The misery her father would feel at seeing his kingdom fall would be equivalent to the misery Elle felt at constantly begging for the love and respect that should be freely given.

"Ready to short circuit the system?" Peter asked. Elle giggled, a maniacal grin on her face.

"You can't even _begin_ to imagine how ready I am." Electricity suddenly filled the air. Elle's power was so intense, Peter could feel his skin burning. _Good thing I can heal_, Peter thought to himself.

All the video cameras were exploding. The electrical lines surged with power. Peter smiled slightly as the guards put forth cries of alarm as their entire outdoor security system was decimated.

_Sylar, Maya_, Peter pushed his thoughts out towards the pair, hoping he had mastered Matt's power well enough to accomplish the task_. Elle's calmed down. We could use your help with security_.

The guards were shouting. Some hugged tighter to the position they were guarding while a large posse seemed to emerge from nowhere, right towards where Peter and Elle were standing.

"There's twenty of them."

The voice made Peter jump. Elle barely restrained an electrical shock. Sylar had silently snuck up behind them, Maya at his side.

"Let the battle begin," Sylar grinned. Maya nodded nervously. Elle cackled.

Peter faced their opponents, a steely look of determination on his face. _Let it begin, indeed_.

SSS

All was silent at Mohinder Suresh's lab. Or at least, all was silent in what was _left_ of his lab. The moment the Company realized that Mohinder had betrayed them, they wasted no time in tearing apart every inch of his laboratory. They took his papers, and his equipment, leaving only the cast iron tables. Even the bed in the corner had been stripped of everything but the frame, incase the doctor had been harboring secret papers in the mattress.

All the Company knew was that Mohinder's location was unknown, and that he was against the Company. They didn't know how long this extreme disloyalty had been going on, so they wanted any and all records Mohinder had, to see who he had contacted, and who might be on his side. Unfortunately for the Company, Mohinder was proving untraceable.

It was these demolished remains that greeted Hiro when he appeared in Suresh's lab, holding the completed collar. Though Hiro hadn't expected the doctor to be there, he was horrified at the complete lack of anything resembling the lab he had been in previously. Only the painting of the New York explosion assured him that he wasn't in the wrong spot.

Hiro frowned, disturbed by the new development. He had to get the collar to Doctor Suresh. He would understand its mechanics, and figure out how to get it to the government, and then to Sylar. Though the Company hadn't been taken out yet, (to the best of Hiro's knowledge), he wanted to know where Mohinder was, if only for his peace of mind.

With a sigh, Hiro popped back to Japan, where Ando was waiting for him.

"So, have we saved the world yet?" Ando asked jauntily in Japanese. Hiro smiled slightly at the lightheartedness of his friend. It must be wonderful to not take life so seriously. Hiro could vaguely remember being like that.

"Not yet," Hiro said simply.

Ando was silent. He could tell Hiro was feeling down. He tried to think of the most amusing, ridiculously optimistic thing he could think of. And then it came to him.

"I bet you one thousand yen that Sylar will be set free in society, reform, and marry that girl in the photo."

If Hiro had been drinking anything, it surely would have been decorating Ando's face. Instead, Hiro choked on his own spit.

"Um . . . WHAT?!"

Ando shrugged, smiling.

"Hey, _Gabriel_ said it's possible. Maybe that future is the future we're going to be in."

Hiro laughed at how insane that outcome seemed.

"Well, if you're so confident," Ando grinned, "take the bet. One thousand yen."

Hiro chuckled, his face lighting up for the first time in ages.

"I tell you what. If they get married, I will not only pay you a thousand yen, but buy us both roundtrip flights to America to see the wedding."

"And if we're not invited?" Ando asked.

Hiro rolled his eyes. "I'll buy us roundtrip flights to visit."

A fanatical glint came to Ando's eye as he said, "Deal." They shook on it.

SSS

"Sir!"

Bob winced at the tone in his subordinate's voice. He was having a bad week. Not only had his best geneticist and scientist gone rogue, his daughter hadn't contacted him at all on her vacation. That, and his entire desk had become so cluttered with paperwork, that he couldn't find a working pen.

"What?!" Bob snapped, which would have left most employees stammering apologies for disturbing him. Bob longed to break the only rule he held himself to, and turn the miserable excuse for a human in front of him into a gold statue.

But the employee was unapologetic as he said, "The Ohio base is under attack!"

Bob jumped to his feet immediately, scattering a pile of papers to the floor.

"By who?"

"We only caught two on film before out cameras were taken out. Peter Petrelli . . . and your daughter sir."

Bob fumed. So his daughter was there . . . which meant she lied . . . she wasn't in Florida . . . which meant she and Mohinder could have been working together . . . which meant Mohinder could be with them. And if Mohinder was there, Sylar might be as well. Bob knew it was speculation. Mohinder had freed Sylar, but Sylar sticking with the doctor seemed unlikely.

"Warn the Ohio base to expect others. Call in all Company employees in the area. We may be facing an army. If they beat us there, we can all kiss our careers goodbye. Got it?"

"Understood sir," the man stated, before scurrying out of the room to complete the command.

Bob sat back down, and quickly accessed the remaining working cameras in the Ford plant, only able to watch at a distance as his best Company base was attacked.

SSS

Sylar grinned, breathing heavily with elation, his hair plastered down with sweat. Nothing beat the thrill of thoroughly crushing the enemy. And Sylar had done that with flying colors.

Sylar smiled at his body count. He had taken out nine of the twenty. Peter had gotten five, and Elle had taken six. Maya had stayed back, but she had played her part. Weakening the others with the sickness so the other three could take them out.

Sylar speculated the first wave of guards had been so easy not only because they didn't know what they were up against, but the lot seemed to have no special abilities among them. But still, Sylar hadn't spared the theatrics.

While Peter and Elle's victims looked pretty normal, like they had been strangled, or electrocuted, Sylar's victims were unique. He had frozen two of them in what he deemed comical positions, blasted another apart with radiation, forced two to shoot themselves, bashed in the skulls of three more by telekinetically levitating a small lamppost. For his final victim, much to everyone's disgust, he took the painstaking time to behead.

But what was the point of killing if you didn't have fun with it?

"OK," Peter said, taking the lead again. "All that's left are the guards at the doors, and whoever's inside. Once we're sure the area is secure, I'll signal Parkman and Bennett to quickly undo the kids' brainwashing. Any questions?"

"Just one," Sylar said, wiping the blood from his hands with the shirt of one of the fallen guards. "Why are you saying this when we went over it five times a few hours ago?"

Peter grit his teeth. That man was insufferable. How Maya and Elle put up with him for several days, he would never know.

"Alright then. Let's go."

As they approached a set of doors, Sylar noticed all the other guards seemed to be having trouble breathing. He glanced at Peter and confirmed his suspicions. He was responsible for their strangulation. Sylar briefly thought of accusing Peter of liking killing too, but thought better of it. They needed to work as a team.

BANG!! Elle let out a startled scream. A bullet was hovering an inch away from her forehead.

"On the roof!" Sylar shouted. Peter waved his hand, sending the rooftop guard to the ground. With a sickening crunch, he was dead.

"Thanks," Elle muttered.

"Don't thank me," Sylar reprimanded. "We can't thank each other for anything. It'll distract from what we're doing. We're a team. You should _expect_ me to save you."

With that line, the four reached the unguarded door. There was a combination lock, as well as a key, but it was still an ordinary door into an ordinary building. The four looked through the Plexiglas. The hallways seemed empty, but that was to be expected, as the Company did all of its work in the basement.

Sylar stepped forward.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, somewhat angry at the unauthorized move.

Sylar cocked an eyebrow. "I'm melting the locks. No matter how many of them there are, melted, there's nothing to hold the door in place. And you're not the leader of this. We agreed Bennett and Elle were, as they know more about the Company than you do."

With that, Sylar placed his hand on the door. All of the locks melted, and the door was easily pulled open. Liquid metal pooled on the ground. Sylar would have much preferred to knock the door in, but he figured he should conserve his power.

All four were silent as they entered the Company walls.

SSS

Matt and Bennett could see the Ford plant, but they were a mile away, waiting for the signal. They weren't to be a part of the actual fighting, and needed an all clear before they would head out.

_I'm getting really tired of hanging out in restaurants_, Matt sighed. _What was this, the third today?_

Matt and Bennett were in a Steak 'n Shake, the only place in the area they could find that was open 24 hours a day and in which it wasn't suspicious to stay for long periods of time.

"I was thinking," Matt said absentmindedly, "about the break in. Why don't the cops rush to the place immediately? It _has_ to have an alarm system."

"It does," Bennett answered, glad for the conversation, "But it doesn't signal the police. It would be disastrous for law enforcement to enter that building. There are too many secrets there. What it _does_ do is set off alarms within the building, and notify all the other Company bases."

"But what if there are gunshots?"

Bennett snorted.

"Have you _seen_ this neighborhood? Gunshots aren't uncommon. And I doubt anyone would report one. They'd be terrified of making an enemy of a gang, or getting stuck in a crossfire. No, I'm sure our guys will be able to break in fine."

Matt leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his milkshake, and refocused his mind, listening for Peter's signal. But the only thoughts within his head were his own.

SSS

"This is where the fun begins," Elle cackled. They had made it to a door marked 'Employees Only' in bold red letters. It was an entrance to the basement. This door was not so typical of a regular business. It was made of iron, and was an unknown number of inches thick.

"Do you think you can melt the door?" Elle asked Sylar. Sylar was disappointed. He had hoped they would want him to take out whoever was on the other side of the door. Why couldn't Peter clear the entrance? But, trying his best to be a team player, he simply answered:

"Yes."

"Maya, can you direct your power through the door?"

"I can," Maya said, and Peter was surprised to see a look of steely determination in her eyes. She had been trembling moments before.

Sylar and Elle however, weren't shocked at all. They both knew Maya really pulled it together when she needed to.

"OK, Maya. Go."

Maya's eyes faded to black. Sylar watched the inky tears fall, and marveled at how he wasn't sick as well. She really had progressed.

"Sylar?"

Sylar nodded, and stuck out his right hand, focusing hard. Peter and Elle took combative stances. The door rippled, and shimmied. With a final warble, it folded, sending metallic goo across the floor.

There were three people immediately inside the doorway, but only two were doubled over with the sickness. One stood strong.

Elle quickly zapped all three. The two sick ones immediately collapsed, dead. But the third still seemed unaffected.

Peter quickly tried to use telekinesis against the man. That failed as well. Sylar blinked, too shocked to do anything. Was the man even there? Was he an illusion?

The man glanced over the four intruders. After a quick once over, his eyes immediately focused on Sylar. There was such intensity in his eyes that Sylar was almost taken aback.

"Deine Hände sind blutig," the man snarled. Sylar wasn't sure what to do. Was that German? Sylar forced himself from his stupor, and tried to freeze the man. But once again, the figure was unaffected.

"Ihr sollt brennen," the man said, completely unaffected. Then the man's face turned ugly.

"Fahr zur Hölle." With that statement, the whole world seemed to explode with fire. Sylar went into complete and total agony as the flames consumed him. Screams assaulted his ears, and he vaguely identified them as the screams of his victims. Pain, worse than anything he thought was possible to feel, ripped through his body. He couldn't hear, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe . . . all that existed was pain.

_So this is hell . . ._ it was the last coherent thought he could make.

SSS

Peter, Maya and Elle jumped back in alarm as Sylar let out an unearthly howl. Maya watched as the once strong villain crumpled to the floor, wailing in agony. She turned quickly from Gabriel, expecting to be attacked next. But the man in front of her seemed completely focused on Gabriel.

"What are you doing to him?!" Peter demanded, grabbing the man, and pinning him to a wall. Powers were useless against this man. Peter stared him down. He was old, his hair white, his face lined. He didn't wear a security uniform, and carried no gun, but power seeped from his every pore.

Then . . . Peter was shocked as an almost sympathetic expression crossed the man's face.

"Kein Mitleid," the man said, motioning to Sylar. He was speaking slowly, as if hoping that somehow, Peter would get the message. Peter only became more frustrated, and he couldn't even understand the man's thoughts.

"Ich bin der Prophet," The man insisted, now motioning to himself. Peter could still hear Sylar screaming.

"Kill him!" Elle shrieked over the wails. "Just kill him the normal way!"

Peter hesitated, realizing she was right. He couldn't just let Sylar die. As much as he hated to do it, Peter placed his hands around the man's neck and squeezed. The man's eyes widened in shock, and he began to struggle in protest. But he was old, and physically weak.

Sylar's wails became moans, then soft whimpers as the old man succumbed to death. Maya looked away from Peter, and focused on Gabriel. He seemed to be coming out of it, whatever _it_ was.

And finally, with a last feeble attempt for air, the old man died. Sylar let out a giant gasp, and leapt to his feet, looking around wildly. He breathed heavily, and shook violently, still reeling from the shock of the pain he had been experiencing moments before.

"What did he do to you?" Elle asked, sounding awed.

"I think he sent me to Hell," Sylar said seriously, still trembling. Maya put a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't summon the will to fight her off. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed a steadying hand. That had to be one of the most alarming and painful experiences of his life.

"What sort of power is that?" Elle wondered aloud. "Demon preacher?" Silence met her question.

"Well . . ." Peter hesitated. "We should continue. And after that thing, we should try to be prepared for anything."

No one protested as Peter lead them deeper into the Company.

With each step, Maya expected more people to emerge from the shadows. But after several feet of poorly lit hallway, a set of stairs appeared, leading to the basement. She gulped nervously, vaguely noticing her hand was still on Gabriel's shoulder.

It was too quiet, and it was driving her mad. Where was the giant force of security_? But perhaps_, Maya reasoned, _the Company had never expected more than nosy citizens, and maybe an occasional solitary rogue Company member. Never a group, and certainly not a group with people like Gabriel and Peter_.

The stairs were ending. At the bottom, the hallway continued, rows of doors on either side. The hall was lit only with tiny lights on the wall, positioned every twenty feet.

BANG! Maya started, but it wasn't an attack. Peter had blown the first door on the left off its hinges. Maya peered inside.

The first thing that she noticed was that the lights in the room were flashing on and off, making everything hard to make out. Maya quickly gathered what she could from the brief intervals of sight. She noted the special lab tables lining the walls, and the shelves filled with rows upon rows of test tubes. There was even what looked like a refrigerator storing some of them.

Peter glanced around, and eventually he was satisfied that no one occupied the room. Peter turned to another door, but Elle had found part of the room interesting.

"Those flashing lights aren't in the ceiling. They're on the wall. It's a silent alarm, meaning everyone knows we're here. They probably have been given instructions on what to do. Let's just hope we can outwit them, or they aren't well trained in the field of combat." Elle snorted. "Unlikely."

Peter looked at her.

"Should I bother opening more doors?"

Elle shrugged.

"Open them all if you like. They've probably all formed an ambush somewhere, and I doubt it's in the rooms. But in the meantime, they won't go after us until we reach them. So we can pretty much do whatever we like."

Peter took that as his cue to smash the door on his right. Just like in the previous room, the lights were all flashing, and the room had no human occupants. Peter went to the next room.

They continued in this manner for several meters. Maya was surprised when she found she was slightly disappointed when Gabriel shrugged her off to open doors with Peter. Maya was annoyed with her disappointment. After all, she had heard him decapitate a man. (She couldn't bear to watch.) She knew he enjoyed committing unspeakable crimes. Why couldn't she bring herself to hate him with her full being?!

But as soon as the thoughts came, they were gone. Now was not the time to dwell on them. Now was the time to focus. Now was the time to fight.

"We're coming to an intersection," Elle whispered.

"What?" Peter asked, adopting her hushed tone.

"A meeting of the hallways. See how it's completely black up there? Someone's switched off the lights on the walls, and the silent alarm in that area. There are probably people lying in wait.

"How do you know the hallway doesn't just continue on?"

"All the Company's drills for ambushes have taken place at intersections. That way you can send in as many men as you need. And I vaguely recall seeing the blueprints for this place once. I think it was built like a spider web, all the rooms and halls branching out from one center point. I think we're reaching the center."

Peter decided not to question Elle. He opened the final door, incapable of stopping himself. It would be foolish to leave all rooms checked except for one.

Maya couldn't help but hold her breath as she approached the unknown. As they walked, the darkness became more suffocating. Everyone was hyperaware, unsure of what to expect. Eventually, the guide lights on the walls disappeared. They were in total blackness. All Maya could hear was the sound of their breathing and the light tread of their shoes on the metal ground. The sound was deafening in the silence.

And then— the room exploded with light. Maya cried out, shielding her eyes, unable to see. The light had given her an instant headache, and blue lights danced underneath her eyelids. Before she could open her eyes to adjust, she felt a bone-shattering force collide with her.

She didn't even have time to scream. She stumbled, and felt herself collide with a wall. The force was unrelenting. Maya couldn't focus on these facts though. All she knew was that she was in agony. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe . . . she was dying.

Maya vaguely heard a slight grunt. She felt the force lift away, and seconds later, she could breathe. Blinking rapidly, her eyes finally focused on the scene. A man was slumped on the floor in front of her, a hole through his chest, his skin smoking from the blast of radiation. Who has saved her? Sylar or Peter?

It was then that she noticed the room was in absolute chaos. Lights were flashing, people were screaming, and everyone was locked in mortal combat.

It was indeed, an intersection of hallways. The room had to be the size of a large auditorium, and at least 50 branching hallways spiraled from the room, and into darkness. Maya sensed people waiting in each hallway, waiting for their chance to attack . . .

Suddenly, three men approached Maya. Two of them stopped feet from her, but the third stepped forward, an insane glint in his eye. Maya swallowed thickly, fear taking over. It was as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

"Pretty girl," the man said in a snakelike hiss. "What's your power?" Maya blinked. Power? Did she have a power? Why couldn't she think straight?

"You're mine," the snake man hissed. His partners in crime laughed, keeping a lookout for someone who might try to intervene and save Maya.

"We have had such good times together. Leave this chaos. Trust me to save you. You love me," the man whispered in that snakelike voice. His voice was lovely, so captivating. Maya was falling into a trance . . .

_But I love Gabriel . . ._ her mind weakly protested. _Who is this man?_

He took another step forward.

"You Trusssssssst meeeeee," He said, his voice deepening. There was a knife in his hand, but Maya was having trouble remembering why knives were to be feared. Surely anything this man had couldn't be dangerous. After all, she had known him for so long.

_What's his name?_ Her mind prodded. She didn't know.

_It doesn't matter_, she answered herself.

The knife was getting closer to her neck. Somewhere, she knew this wouldn't have a good outcome. But that wasn't important.

Then . . . an angry shout penetrated Maya's mind. Gabriel? Weren't they supposed to be fighting the Company?

"Pay no mind to him," the man said softly. "Lisssssten to me."

Maya knew something wasn't right. She knew she had to act, to see what was really going on. Before she could lose all sense of reality once more, she activated her power.

SSS

Sylar was frustrated. He had already had to save Maya once, and she was in trouble again. But Sylar had problems of his own. The moment the lights came on, he had been blinded. But he had also reacted quickly.

He projected a telekinetic force field about his person, blinking rapidly to try to rid himself of the blue spots blinding him. He had come to, only to see a man strangling Maya. He didn't even pause to think, sending a massive amount of radiation through the man's chest. But unfortunately, to use that power, he had lifted his telekinetic shield. And that was when they attacked.

Someone had attempted to freeze him solid. But Sylar, who already had that power, was immune to the effects of it. He just had time to telekinetically break his attacker's neck when more people emerged from the shadows.

Now there were five of them, encircling him. But one woman in particular caught his attention. And that was mainly because within a fraction of a second of looking into her eyes, she threw a ball of flames into his face.

Unable to think quickly enough, Sylar had shielded himself with his hands. He felt his skin on his palms burn, but it was nothing compared to the fiery torment he had experienced earlier. Sylar threw a telekinetic punch, and heard the woman yell in surprise as she flew across the room. But Sylar's actions weren't good enough.

Sylar felt something run into him, and he was tossed to the floor with surprising force. The sound of growling reached his ears. A dog?!

Definitely not a dog, Sylar decided, looking at his attacker for the first time. A wolfman. Yellow wolf eyes stared back at him on the face of a man with fur, a slight muzzle and canine teeth.

With a startlingly loud bark, the thing's muzzle descended upon Sylar's neck. Furiously, Sylar tossed the thing off, hearing his shirt rip as the wolfman's claws tried to secure its place on Sylar's person. Sylar froze it, only vaguely thinking about how he'd never know whether the thing could change between human and wolf or if it permanently stayed in the condition he found it in.

Sylar leapt to his feet with such agility, it startled even himself. It was then that he saw Maya. He only glimpsed her briefly, but that was enough. She was still up against the wall the strangler had pinned her too. But now, she was surrounded by three men. Two were facing away from Maya, as if they were guards, but one man was alarmingly close. Sylar couldn't see what the man was doing, but he knew Maya was in danger. Her eyes were blank, and she lacked any sort of emotion or willingness to fight.

Sylar threw another ball of radiation at the guards, but it seemed to collide with an invisible wall, and dissipate. One of the men smirked at him. Sylar was about to try a different sort of attack, one hopefully a shield couldn't block, when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around, and much to his frustration, he found himself on the floor again. Only this time, it didn't seem to be because of any sort of physical force. At least, not an external force.

To Sylar, it felt as if all of his energy was draining away. He staggered to his feet, and was alarmed by how difficult it was. Fear encompassed him . . . and he instantly grew weaker. He crashed to the floor once more, barely managing to avoid cracking his head against the metal.

A man laughed from somewhere above him. Sylar felt helplessness greet him. What was wrong?!

"When I touch you, I turn your own feelings against you," a man chuckled. "My favorite part of my spell: the more you feel afraid, the weaker you become!" He outright laughed.

"And the funnier thing is," the man hissed, kneeling beside Sylar. "Even now that you know the game, you'll still lose."

The man struck Sylar across the face. It was a completely normal strike, unaided by superpowers. Sylar had tried to telekinetically prevent it, but was powerless to do so. He tried to calm himself, but his helplessness created more fear. He even feared being unable to stop feeling fear. Worse yet, he could see Maya still in danger, and he was powerless to help her. She was going to die. The feeling of helplessness consumed him, and Sylar knew he was trapped.

The man hit him again, casually, without much force, knowing he had all the time in the world. Sylar was furious. "You can't beat me!" He shouted angrily, feeling some strength return with his escalating fury.

The man laughed again.

"Watch me."

SSS

Gabriel's shout had brought Maya to her senses. She quickly activated her power. The snake man in front of her let out a soft gasp, and dropped his knife, his eyes turning black.

And then, he and his guards fell to the ground dead.

Maya was quick to locate Gabriel. Much to her surprise, he was curled up on the ground in the fetal position, getting casually kicked by a rather normal looking man.

Maya quickly activated her power once more, focusing on Gabriel's assailant. With a look of shock on his face, black tears leaking from his eyes, the man crumpled.

Maya sighed with relief when Gabriel immediately got to his feet at his attacker's death. He glanced at Maya and smiled briefly, before turning to face another wave of assailants. Maya turned from him, knowing the fight was only beginning.

SSS

Peter had also been blinded by the light. But unlike Sylar, he hadn't thought of using telekinesis to defend himself. But also unlike Sylar, it didn't matter.

Unlike the other three, Peter wasn't bombarded with attackers. As soon as Peter could see, he was met with an unalarming sight. But it _was_ strange to see.

A boy, maybe 15 or 16 stood in front of him. He had a smirk on his face, as he looked into Peter's eyes.

"I dare you to kill me," the child said. Peter stared. He could hear shouts and explosions all around him, but something in the child's stare held his attention. There was something demonic, something unmistakably evil in the child's eyes. The expression was bone chilling.

So despite the child's young age, Peter didn't hesitate when he attacked. But much to his surprise, the boy managed to _dodge_ the telekinetic blow. The child smirked.

"You missed. You'll never complete the dare that way." Confused, Peter tried again. He knew that hitting or grabbing people with telekinesis required a focused beam of energy. The wider the beam, the less effective it would be. Though Peter knew that in _theory_ it was possible to dodge it, no one ever had because telekinesis traveled close to the speed of sound, and the mind wave was invisible.

But yet, the child missed the second blow too, moving before Peter had even completed the attack. It was as if he knew what Peter was going to do before he did it.

"Missed again, old man. You're really bad at this."

Now, anger flooded Peter's system. He sent ice at the boy, radiation, electricity, anything he could think of. He even yelled at the kid with an altered voice to try to distract him. But to no avail. All the attacks kept missing.

As Peter waged his own war, he was dimly aware of the mounds of dead Company workers piling up on the floor, defeated by his comrades. The thought passed through his mind that he wasn't responsible for even _one_ of the killings. But Peter couldn't be distracted. The child he was battling was infuriating.

Peter must have been fighting for fifteen minutes before something broke his concentration. It was Elle. She had crumpled to the floor, bleeding profusely from a large gash in her head. A man floated a few feet above where she lay, smirking. With a thrill of horror, Peter realized the man was going to kill her.

Using Elle's own power, Peter fired a stream of electricity at her attacker. The man fell from the sky, burnt to a crisp with the energy behind the attack. The boy behind him let out an inhuman shriek.

Peter started as he felt the pathetic weight of the teenager collide with his back. Peter quickly lashed out with telekinesis once more, sure he would hit the kid this time. But the instant he even thought about the attack, the boy was gone from his back, and the attack missed again.

Peter turned. The child who had been laughingly dodging his blows wore an ugly expression. His face was red, and his mouth was contorted in a sneer. Much to his shame, Peter suddenly realized what had been happening. The child had been a distraction.

The kid had kept him busy while his comrades tried to kill off Peter's team. Fury filled Peter's soul. But the fury wasn't directed at his attacker. It was directed at himself.

How could he have been so stupid and self-centered?! Here, his team had been struggling for their lives, killing off Company member after Company member. And all this time, he had ignored their dire situations, and left them on their own, while he pursued one child. And why? The kid had hurt his ego by being able to avoid Peter's every attack.

Peter hardened his resolve. It was time to start being a team member.

He turned his back on the boy entirely. He knew the kid would never go on the offensive. It wasn't in his nature. And if he did go on the offensive, he wouldn't be able to do much, as he proved by jumping on Peter's back. Peter knew Maya could take care of the boy in the end.

He scanned the room. Elle was back on her feet. Though she was bleeding, she seemed to be competent enough to fight. Maya was downing people the fastest, and Peter had a feeling very little had gotten in Maya's way to victory. Sylar looked as if he had gone through hell. His shirt was ripped, as if torn apart by claws, his hands were burned, and dark blood stains covered his clothes. Whether they were his or his victims, Peter didn't know.

_So much for the new clothes,_ Peter mused. As he watched, Elle downed a woman who was giving Sylar trouble. But the Company seemed to just be sending out employees in waves. Very few attempted to help each other out. Peter figured Sylar Maya and Elle's teamwork was the only thing giving them an advantage.

But the biggest hindrance in all the fights was the pileup of bodies on the floor. There was very little room to walk without tripping on one of them. And Peter could do something about that.

Since only the boy had his eyes on Peter, Peter quickly took a telekinetic sweep of the floor. Company employees yelled in shock as their fallen comrades flew across the room towards the walls, and started stacking themselves up.

It took Peter twenty seconds to clean the floor. Twenty seconds was all it took to get people to focus on him. And finally, Peter was engaged in a meaningful battle.

SSS

Elle was having the time of her life. Never before had she been able to use her power so freely.

_Am I strong daddy? Am I everything you wanted for your little girl?_ Elle mentally mocked her father. She grinned wildly as she downed another employee_. I'm stronger than you daddy. I'm better than you._

Elle cackled. But she wasn't kidding herself. She knew there was only one reason she could easily kill off all of her opponents. They were confused by her. They knew her as the boss's daughter. Even if they had seen her on the security tapes, they wouldn't know what to think. Maybe, at first glance, they thought that she was on their side. Maybe they thought she was a double agent, and would turn on her team when she had the chance. But the moment the employees had these thoughts, they were dead, electrocuted by Elle's lightning.

Elle knew that the Company rarely had drills for what to do if an intruder entered the building. It was always assumed that any opposition could be picked off with one or two employees. No one had ever expected an attack of this magnitude. No one was trained for it. And Sylar and Peter, with their arsenal of powers, were unstoppable.

Elle knew as long as Peter thought about Claire, that he would be immortal. So even if Elle were to die, she knew Peter could continue, and show her dad up in her place. Elle definitely wanted the honor herself, but she couldn't pretend forever. Deep down, she had always known she might not survive the battle.

But she couldn't have resisted the adventure. All of her life, Elle had been a lab rat. Never allowed to socialize, never allowed to have friends. But this quest made her life complete. She traveled with people who didn't want to examine every aspect of her power and personality. They included her in their schemes. They were friends. She had always gone on missions for her father, killing at his every whim, but never going where _she_ wanted to go, or doing what _she_ wanted to do. This road trip had been unscripted, the first time where she hadn't known what to expect.

And most importantly, she was defying her controlling, hateful father. Her father, who Elle knew, had only loved her for her power and her skills. He had never loved her as a daughter. And this adventure was the ultimate act of revenge. She would destroy her father. She would take away everything he held dear. He should have cared for _her_, not for her ability and the abilities of others. He should have cared for _her_, and not power. And when he was defeated, he'd think about how his lack of love for his daughter had lead to the destruction of all he _did_ love. He would be miserable. And Elle could die happy.

It was with these thoughts that Elle fought on, destroying every opponent with gusto. In her mind, each of them had her father's face.

Elle knew that her luck wouldn't last. Her head was pounding, and blood kept dripping into her eyes. Her electrical shocks, though strong, kept getting weaker and weaker.

When there was a small gap in attacks, Elle looked around the room. Peter was involved in a bloody combat with ten other people. Every time they hit Peter, he healed. However, one employee seemed to have caught on to Peter's only weakness, for he was going for Peter's neck. Elle discreetly killed that one, and looked for Sylar.

He was battered and bleeding, but holding his own. The Company employees, Elle knew, had all seen this man's file. It was mandatory, so they could learn why super powered people needed to be controlled and maintained, and why it would be bad to let the human race know of their existence. If humans knew about the gentle superpowers, they would learn about Sylar's as well. And in theory, there would be chaos. Elle found it amusing to watch them all hesitate before trying to kill Sylar themselves. The bodies lining the walls were a rather good deterrent for the Company employees, who seemed to sign their own death certificate just by looking at them. They froze up, and were easily taken out.

Elle then looked at Maya. She had bruises on her throat, and her eyes were black, her face streaked with black tears. Elle was somewhat surprised to note that Maya was only taking on a few people at a time. _Perhaps she's worried about hurting us too_, Elle mused.

Blood dripped to the floor. Elle knew it was hers. Soon, she knew, the blood loss would render her incapable of fighting. But Elle didn't want to simply pass out, and then be killed. She wanted to go out with a bang.

Elle summoned her energy, and looked at the three hallways the majority of the attackers were emerging from. She summoned all of her electrical power to her fingertips. As she gathered her energy, images of the trip clouded her mind. She remembered dancing with Matt at the steakhouse, Sylar's prank on Mohinder, Molly's growing bravery. She remembered the adversity they had between them before, remembered trying to kill Sylar, working with Mohinder, and taunting Peter with electrifying kisses. Elle smiled, hoping they thought of her as a friend, despite their histories. Elle would like to think that she died with friends.

"Beat the Company for me," she whispered. "Give my dad what he deserves."

With that, she released the electricity. Screams, and the thuds of the dead employees hitting the ground resounded throughout the hallways. Elle smiled, swaying on her feet. She had lost too much blood, and now she had no energy left.

Elle fainted. And despite her amazing final attack, she was ignored by the Company members. Elle faded into the folds of death while she slept.

SSS

The end of Ch 15! More is coming REALLY SOON!

In case anyone's interested, here's the translation of the German. I actually don't speak German, and the lines used are compiled from the translations of German songs. So if it's grammatically incorrect, or doesn't work in the context I put it in, I apologize for my lack of education.

Translation, in order of quotes: "your hands are bloody" "you must burn" "go to hell" "No sympathy" "I am the prophet"

As I said, the rest is coming soon, so sit tight!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

All fighting came to a momentary stand still as Elle released the powerful electric blast. Sylar was amazed by the power behind the attack. He watched as Elle crumpled to the ground in a heap. He knew then, that Elle had taken down a good portion of their remaining attackers . . . and was wasting away on the floor.

Sylar knew that she was probably alive, but he also noticed that no one seemed to be paying her any mind. She was probably safest if they left her there . . . although her head _was_ bleeding rather badly . . . Sylar cast the thought aside. He had no ability to heal other people, and trying to apply pressure to Elle's wound would only draw attention to her. She had the best chance of living if she was left alone.

These thoughts seemed to be on the minds of the others, for they did nothing about Elle's collapse either. Sylar was amazed to see that bodies seemed to keep appearing against the walls. He assumed Peter was putting them there, but for the life of him, he couldn't catch Peter at it.

The swarm of attackers was thinning. Some were scampering off into the darkness of the building, not wanting to risk their life. It was understandable, as Sylar was certain that there were at least one hundred murdered people in the room with him. And all of them with powers . . .

But no. He couldn't let the FBI link him to the other murders he had committed. He'd have to keep his power-stealing tendencies to himself.

"I think this is the last of them!" Peter called out from across the room, his voice strained as he tried to deal with a particularly difficult opponent. "There's maybe ten left."

And indeed, the rest of the room's occupants were whittled away until only Sylar, Peter, Maya, and the dodging teenage boy remained.

The boy was breathing heavily and sweating profusely, but his eyes were still lit with energy.

" You can't catch me. Try. You'll be here all day."

"Yes, we will," Peter sighed, knowing the child's antics well. "But you can't dodge _every_ attack. I think Maya can take you. Maya?"

Maya looked at Peter, and then at the carnage around the room. There must have been over a hundred corpses lining the walls. And she had killed some of them. She hated herself for it.

Though she knew the Company was evil, and that what they were doing would save thousands, she couldn't help but feel guilty. And she wasn't going to kill this child if she didn't have to.

So she looked at the boy. Something about his demeanor radiated evil. It was an unnatural look for a child to have. But Maya decided to give him a chance, despite the look.

"What's your name?" She asked.

The boy was startled by the question.

"My number is one. Why would I have a name?"

Now Maya was confused.

"What?"

The child sighed, as if she was particularly slow.

"My full _name_, if you want to call it that, is Generation One Number One. I am the first result. The first child created to further humanity. My parents were selected, specifically to create my power. This is my home, and I further my ability to save the future.

"If I leave, I'll be attacked. Humans are unworthy, and they can't understand all that I am, all that I represent. I am the superior breed, and they do not deserve my abilities. Here, I can be everything I want to be. One day, humanity will die out, and my kind will emerge. And I can say I was the first of my superior breed.

"Names tie in emotions. Emotions are weak. So I have no name. What I am called is what I am. One of many. One of hundreds. And soon, our numbers will multiply even further. For now, our numbers let us know how we're helping ourselves, how we're increasing our population. Our numbers tell us that we're a part of something.

"Humans are weak, and fall to war. I know I'll survive. It's a shame that you consider yourself human. You could hone your ability here, and prepare for our future."

Maya stared. The child was insane. Brainwashed. But she had one question for him, a question that could either spare him or destroy him based on his answer.

"Say, hypothetically, that you could be accepted by humans, and live among them in peace. If that was the case, would you leave this place?"

Number One snorted.

"If I ever got a chance to leave this place, I would start picking off the humans one by one. It's time that us superiors took over, don't you agree?"

That was it. Maya focused on the kid, and blackened her eyes. But before she could even focus on him, he moved. Maya focused . . . and he moved again. She couldn't keep track of him.

"Maya, let your power affect everyone in the room," Peter ordered. Maya nodded, and released the virus without aim in an expanding circle, the sickness traveling faster than sound.

Though the boy ran, it caught up to him. Doubled over with the disease, Peter shot a ray of ice at the boy. He was frozen solid.

Maya relented on her power, and Peter and Sylar sighed in relief.

"Where's Elle?" Maya asked. It was then that everyone turned their attention to the blonde woman crumpled on the floor. Elle was motionless, the blood on her forehead drying.

"Is . . . is she alive?" Maya hesitantly asked. Peter strode over to Elle, and gently placed his fingers on her neck, his face screwing up in concentration. There wasn't a pulse. But just to be sure, he leaned forward until his cheek was up against her mouth, trying to feel if she was breathing. She wasn't.

"She's dead," Peter said, his voice monotone.

No one was sure what to think. Maya struggled to come to terms with the fact that not everyone had made it out alive. Peter reflected over his and Elle's . . . interesting . . . relationship. Sylar however had started up a mental chant, to resist a great temptation.

_Don't take her power, it isn't worth the consequences. Don't take her power, it isn't worth the consequences. Don't take her power, it isn't worth the consequences . . ._

But Sylar knew that on some level, he would miss her. They hadn't gotten off to a good start, but Elle did have an entertaining personality.

After a few more moments of silence, Peter cleared his throat.

"We should keep moving."

Everyone nodded, and continued on.

SSS

_Matt, can you hear me?_ Matt started. Bennett looked at him curiously.

"It's Peter!" Matt hissed.

_**I hear you loud and clear.**_

_Great. We took out all of the employees that confronted us. Elle's dead. I think it's safe for you to come in._

_**Elle's dead? . . .**_

_I know. For some reason, I thought no one would die._

_**. . . Are you sure all of the employees have been taken care of?**_

_Well, probably not all, but enough—_

_**Could you find a security room and check? I don't want any surprises.**_

_. . . I suppose . . . we _could_ find the room . . . it might take a while though._

_**And find these kids we're supposed to talk to as well.**_

_. . . You know, we're doing all the work here. We could use your help to look, seeing as we're down to only three._

_**. . . I'm sorry Peter. It's just that I'm a bit nervous, and I give orders when I'm nervous. It's harder to control thoughts than words. If you haven't found them in your search for security, I'll help you find the kids. I really **_**am**_** sorry.**_

_I understand. You guys have to live if this is to be pulled off. I'll find security, then check back with you._

_**Thanks, for doing all of the hard stuff.**_

_No problem._

And Peter was gone.

"So, should we head out?" Bennett asked.

"No," Matt said. "I asked Peter to check and make sure there aren't any left."

Bennett raised his eyebrows.

"Are you going to kill them all? That's probably not the best of ideas."

"But it's the safest."

"True," Bennett sighed. And silence engulfed the pair once more.

SSS

"Found it!" Peter said, relieved.

"Well, it wasn't that hard to do," Sylar said, miffed at Peter's enthusiasm. "There were signs posting directions to everything on every wall."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't expecting that. I'm just relieved it wasn't as complicated as I thought it would be."

"I'm more interested in the other labels," Maya put in. "Like, why would this place need a label for 'English class'?"

"Maybe they teach the kids they create," Peter suggested. "Speaking of the kids this Company has, where do you think they are? I didn't see a label stating 'children this way'."

"But there was a label for 'boarding rooms'. We should check there," Maya said.

At the moment though, the three were more concerned with the metal door reading 'Security' in bold yellow letters.

"Sylar, can you melt the door?" Peter asked.

"Why don't _you_ test out that power, Peter? I'm a little busy right now." Sylar's voice was condescending, and Peter ducked his head, shamefaced.

All throughout their journey toward security, Sylar had been tearing pieces off of his already destroyed black shirt using telekinesis. He was currently concentrating on binding them around his hands to protect the burns from infection. Unfortunately, this was a delicate art, one which telekinesis was not the best for.

"Let me help," Maya said, stepping forward, leaving Peter to decide what to do about the door.

Sylar hesitated, but extended his right hand toward Maya, telekinetically placing the scraps of fabric in her hands.

Maya carefully and quickly wrapped the some of the material around Gabriel's hand. But despite her gentleness, he hissed in pain.

"Sorry," Maya said, tying the fabric into a knot to hold in place. Though Gabriel's thumb was burned as well, she didn't wrap it. She figured he would want to be able to use it, no matter how badly burned it was.

Gabriel put out his left hand, making it clear that he didn't care about whatever pain she might have caused.

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, as the heavy metal door turned to liquid.

"Don't hurt me!!" a voice from inside whimpered. Maya stopped midway in wrapping Gabriel's hand, and all three peered into the room.

It took a while for them to find the occupant. Sylar laughed. The man was hiding under a desk.

Quickly surveying the rest of the room, Sylar quickly determined that it was indeed the security mainframe. At least forty TVs lined the walls, and radio and electronical equipment was crammed into every other available space.

As for the man, he wasn't doing a very good job of watching the monitors from his position.

"P-please," the man stammered. "I-I'll do a-a-anything!"

Maya took pity on the man instantly. But Peter wasn't so keen to let him go.

"Anything?"

The man nodded eagerly, hoping for some opportunity to save himself.

"Do you know of a room in which I can lock anybody in, and they won't be able to get out?"

The man's enthusiasm faltered.

"Th . . . there is a room. The quiet room. It neutralizes all powers. It can be locked from the inside or the outside. But once something's locked in there, nothing can get in our out until the person who locked the door unlocks it."

Peter nodded.

"Perfect. Can you tell all remaining Company employees to go into that room, for their own safety? Then we'll lock it from the outside. The police can pick all of you up later."

The man hesitated, then asked, "Do you want the experiments in there too?"

"The experiments?" Peter questioned.

The man gulped nervously.

"The kids we brought into existence. The one's with powers, the ones without, the infants, the mothers caring for the infants . . .?"

Peter paused. That sounded like a lot of people.

"But of course, all of those people are already incapable of escaping, so there'd probably be no point . . ." the guard continued hesitantly.

"No," Peter answered. "Leave them where they are. Now, contact the other employees, and give them their instructions. And for God's sake, don't stammer."

Peter turned to Sylar and Maya.

"Can you find those rooms? I'll make sure this idiot follows orders. When I'm done, I'll contact you . . . Mentally."

"Will that work if we can't read minds?" Maya asked. Peter looked at her. Maya took two steps toward him without thinking about it.

"It works," Peter said.

"What does?" Maya asked, self-consciously taking two steps back. She didn't know why she did that.

"That's the only way I can make it work. I told you to take two steps forward. When the time comes, I'll give you mental directions to come to me. Sylar, follow her. I'm not going to bother ordering you around, because I suspect you might kill me the instant you're out of my control."

"You've got that right," Sylar affirmed.

"Go ahead," Peter motioned. Sylar and Maya left.

They walked down the hall in silence. Maya longed to start a conversation, but the only thing she could think of was the fact that Gabriel's shirt was ripped open, and much of the material was missing. She was afraid that if she tried to talk, she might say something embarrassing. Something about him just taking the rest of the shirt off as it was serving no purpose anyway . . .

But Maya kept these thoughts silent. After walking a few more feet, they cam to another directional sign. Lists of rooms covered it, each with an arrow pointing a certain way. They had the option of going left, right, or straight.

"The boarding rooms are to the left," Maya stated. "And look! A room labeled 'Nursery'. That's to the left too."

"We should also check out 'Head Office'," Gabriel said, pointing at another label, also with an arrow pointing left. "Maybe we can find a list of all the Company bases. That would be something the police would love to get their hands on. And think; if the police go to every base, they'll pull this Company apart within days. The Company will have no time to regroup!"

Maya nodded, and they took the hallway on the left. At that point, a loud voice filled the room. "All Employees, please go to the quiet room for your own safety. All Employees. This is not a drill. Power to the Empowered." The message cut off.

"Power to the empowered?" Maya asked.

"Probably a phrase they use to let everyone know that whoever's giving the message isn't being held at gunpoint. Most places have a code. Unfortunately, it could have been a phrase to signal that the message was forcibly given. It's impossible to tell. We just have to hope for the former."

"Shouldn't we get out of the way, incase people pass us to get to this quiet room?" Maya inquired.

With a sigh, Gabriel tried the handle on one of the hallway doors. It opened. Maya laughed. Gabriel quirked an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"I just thought . . . what if the doors you and Peter destroyed were unlocked?" Gabriel was silent for a few seconds. Then he smiled too.

"I guess we love theatrics."

Gabriel and Maya ducked into the dark room and shut the door behind them. They waited about ten minutes in the darkness, and in the whole time, only heard the hurried footsteps of about three Company employees pass by. Maya and Gabriel waited silently until they were certain that there would be no further footsteps.

"Let's go," Gabriel whispered. They cautiously exited the room.

Treading lightly, just incase of stragglers, Gabriel and Maya followed the directional arrows on the signs located at each intersection. Thankfully, the intersections weren't as dramatic as the first one, and they encountered no further rooms of auditorium size proportions. It seemed the room they had fought in was the central point of the base.

After some time walking, they came across the head office. The boarding rooms were still further ahead, but Gabriel and Maya figured it was worth it to stop to see what kind of information they could gather.

"And behind door number one," Gabriel said, in a perfect game-show-host voice. Maya rolled her eyes.

"Just open the door," she said. Gabriel mock pouted.

"Well, you're no fun," Gabriel said, comical pout in place. He tried the handle. Just like the previous door, it was unlocked.

Together, they entered the room. It was a decent size office, with filing cabinets against the wall, a large desk in the center, and a laptop on top of the desk. There were other things in the room too of course, like potted plants, ugly carpeting, and abstract paintings, but they held no interest. Maya and Gabriel were after information.

"Is he logged in to the computer?" Maya asked. Gabriel quickly crossed the room, and sat down in the desk chair, flipping open the laptop. The computer was shut off. Gabriel swore under his breath.

"Let's not waste too much time here," Gabriel said. "We'll just flip through a few things, and if we're lucky, we'll find it. You start with the filing cabinets." With that, he turned his attention to the desk drawers.

Maya approached the cabinets, reading each label. A lot of them just had years listed on them. She passed a drawer labeled 'medical forms' a drawer labeled 'background checks' and several drawers labeled 'known power descriptions A-C' then 'D-F' and so on. There was another drawer labeled 'Dangerous' and Maya assumed that it held the records of the criminals with powers. Briefly, she wondered if Gabriel had a file . . .

But finally she found something that looked promising. It was labeled, quite simply, 'Information'. Maya opened the drawer.

Within the drawer were many individual file folders, all of which were neatly labeled. Maya silently thanked God for the fact that whoever worked in the office was so organized.

The first folder read, 'Blue Prints', and Maya was pleased to find a map of the Ford plant within a folder. She took it. The next folder was marked 'Employee contact information'. Was it a complete list of employees? Maya pulled the file. No. It appeared to only be those who worked in the base she was currently in. But just incase she needed it, she took that as well.

After several less helpful files, Maya found what she was looking for. A folder labeled 'Bases'. Eagerly, she pulled out the file. And there it was!

Names of the bases, (all fronts of course), their addresses, their phone numbers, their leader's name and email, and their importance were all neatly listed.

Maya cried out with glee. "These people think they're so smart, but they have it all on paper!" Maya cried out excitedly.

Gabriel abandoned the desk to look at the collection of papers she had gathered.

"I suppose they thought they were untouchable,' Gabriel inferred. "Their ego is their downfall."

"Can we look for the kids now?" Maya asked. Gabriel nodded. Maya lead the way out of the office, anticipation building. She knew that somewhere in the facility, lived a bunch of children; brainwashed and mistreated by a power-hungry organization. No one had the right to basically _breed_ humans for genetic traits. And Maya was afraid what condition the kids might be in when they found them.

She followed arrow after arrow, Gabriel tailing her. They continued in this manner for a while until . . . she saw it. Maya stopped abruptly, and felt Gabriel stumble into her. She couldn't believe what she was seeing . . .

SSS

Sylar was startled when Maya suddenly came to a halt. Unable to arrest his momentum, he collided with her. Embarrassed and angry, he was about to ask her why she had stopped so suddenly. But then he saw it.

Directly in front of Maya was a giant panel of Plexiglas, allowing full view into a room. The cement above the see-through wall had a single word on it: failures. And what they called 'failures' was unbelievable.

Within the room, there were fifteen single beds. Each bed was cast iron. Each bed was bolted to the floor. Each bed had only a single lumpy mattress. But that wasn't the worst of it.

Each bed also contained a child. The children Sylar observed were sickly, bones clearly visible from thin, unhealthy skin. Every child was sleeping, or at least, feigning sleep, and they were all sprawled over their bare mattresses. All seemed to be physically injured in some way. Some had cuts on their faces, some had arms wrapped in bandages, and all seemed to have yellowed bruises on their too pale skin. Their only clothing was the same white ensemble Sylar himself had worn twice when he was the Company's prisoner.

Sylar stepped around Maya, almost oblivious to her presence, and approached what could only be described as a prison cell. He half expected to see shackles on the children's legs as well. What had they been doing to these kids? Using them for target practice?

Failures. The word echoed in Sylar's mind. Then, it all clicked into place. He knew who these kids were. They were probably offspring from super-powered parents, offspring who were predicted to have a special ability. But they didn't. They weren't special. And because of it, the Company locked them away, and was treating them like animals, putting them on display for all to see.

Sylar felt fury boil inside him. These kids were like he had been. Longing for a purpose, hated because they couldn't live up to expectations . . . He felt a connection with them. And as he raged over the unfairness of the children's situation, he felt power welling up inside him as well. Was Maya calling his name? He wasn't sure. All he could see were the abused and neglected children in front of him. His hands felt hot. Radiation. But he couldn't bring himself to care. There would be hell to pay. He hadn't been nearly harsh enough with the Company members he had killed. Those kids would be avenged. Sylar got angrier, and angrier, and the heat of radiation got stronger and stronger—

And then Maya's lips were pressed against his own. Sylar was so startled, he nearly fell over backwards. All of his fury simply vanished, as though it had been an illusion, and in its place, shock took over.

He pulled away, and saw Maya in front of him, looking very concerned. The moment he focused on her, a relieved grin covered her face.

"Gabriel . . . thank God!" she breathed. "I've been shaking you, trying to get you to focus, you were in some sort of trance, then your hands started glowing, and—" Maya rambled.

Sylar silenced her with a wave of his hand. "It's alright," he said. "I just got . . . so angry . . ."

"It's inhuman what they've done to those kids," Maya vehemently stated.

"Yeah . . ." Sylar said, trying to keep the mind-controlling rage out of his system. He focused on Maya, at her angelic face, and her worried eyes, and he smiled softly.

"You're a brilliant kisser. I'm not sure I ever told you . . ."

"I only did it to keep you from blowing us all up," Maya protested. But Sylar could tell that on some level she appreciated the compliment.

"I'm _sure_ that was the only reason," he smirked, glad for a distraction from his unwanted emotions. But Maya made no effort to defend herself further.

"We should find the rest of them," she said. Sylar nodded. Back to business. After quickly noting the location of the door into the room, (to the right of the Plexiglas window), Sylar followed Maya, who was once again leading the way.

The next room they found was the nursery, which looked pretty much like Sylar expected it to.

There were several rows of cribs, each bearing a single baby. Some were wearing pink, and some blue, obviously correlating with their gender. There were also several toddler beds, containing children in what Sylar suspected was an age 2-3 bracket. The only thing that was slightly surprising was that there were several full size beds as well, each occupied by a woman. Sylar assumed they were like nurses, caring for the babies. There were several rocking chairs, a refrigerator and microwave, bags full of diapers, small toys, and other things that were needed to take care of infants.

On closer inspection, one of the rocking chairs was occupied. One of the nurses was rocking a baby, who appeared to be wailing at the top of his lungs. Sylar thanked God for soundproof glass.

As he watched her, she glanced up at him. Surprise registered in her eyes. Sylar, not knowing what to do, waved in what he hoped was a friendly way. She stared at him, hesitated, then rose to her feet. Still rocking the baby, she approached the glass. She stared meaningfully at him, then walked over to the door of the room. She looked at him, and then at the door. It was obvious that she wanted him to let her out.

That was unexpected. Sylar hadn't expected the nurses to be locked in. Or perhaps . . . perhaps they weren't nurses at all. Maybe they were the biological mothers of the babies, caring for the children they were forced to create . . .

"Do you think we should let them out? Or should we wait for Matt and Mr. Bennett?" Maya inquired.

Sylar shrugged, and simply walked up and opened the door. The sound of the baby's wailing reached his ears. _Perfect_, he mentally sighed. He hated to hear infants cry. As for the woman, she hesitated just inside the door, and seemed unsure whether or not she should exit. Sylar wasn't about to invite her outside.

Finally, she decided dialogue was the best course of action.

"Who are you? Are you here to save us?"

"My name is Gabriel. And this is Maya," he said, motioning behind him. "We _are_ here to save you, but we'd kind of like to free you all at once. We have something that everyone needs to hear. But, unfortunately, we're still waiting on our speaker to get here.

"I'm sure you've waited for many years to be freed," Sylar said carefully, "But could you wait a few more hours?"

Maya was shocked. It seemed cruel to lock the woman back inside.

The woman seemed to think so too, for she flinched visibly at the word 'hours'.

"Have . . . have you defeated the Company?" she asked.

"We have," Sylar said. "Every employee is either dead or contained."

The woman smiled, and Sylar instantly felt happier. It was impossible not to. Her smile was the smile of a woman who had suddenly had all of her dreams and prayers answered.

"Then I will wait."

She disappeared back into the room, the infant finally calming down.

Sylar slowly and carefully closed the door behind her.

"Let's find the rest of them." They continued on.

It wasn't long before they came across the final room. This one also had a Plexiglas wall. But unlike the other two rooms, this one had many more occupants.

Children, ranging from ages four to fifteen, were lying in bunk beds, much nicer than the beds of the 'failures'. These beds actually had fluffy mattresses, pillows, and sheets. And the children were also very healthy. But unfortunately, they were also awake.

They stared at Sylar and Maya through the wall. Some looked curious at their presence. Others looked infuriated. One of the older children dropped from the top bunk, approached the glass, and began yelling at them, and pounding his fists on the see-through wall. They couldn't hear what he said, but as he spoke, the other children stared at them with hate.

Sylar inferred the older child was like the other boy they met, Number One. Completely brainwashed. Matt had his work cut out for him.

"Let's leave. If we stick around, they'll only become more agitated," Sylar whispered. He and Maya turned and left.

"I think Peter's calling me," Maya suddenly said out of the blue.

"Why do you say that?" Sylar asked, curiously. Then he noticed the way she was walking. It wasn't a walk. It was a _march_.

"Do you want to bet he asked me to march back to him, pronto?" Maya joked. Sylar smiled. Together, they walked . . . or marched . . . to wherever Peter was taking them.

SSS

A/N: The end of 15. I've been writing for three hours straight now, trying to finish this . . . AND I'M ALMOST DONE!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_You can come to the Company now._

Once again, Matt was startled to hear Peter's voice in his head. Usually _he_ was in the heads of _other_ people. _They_ were never in _his_.

_We've rounded up the remaining employees. Sylar and Maya have found the kids. According to them, you and Bennett have your work cut out for you. And please call Mohinder. I think we should call in the media._

_**Can do**_, Matt answered. He felt Peter's presence leave his mind.

Out loud, he spoke to Bennett.

"Call Mohinder. It's time to move out."

SSS

"So, what I miss?" Bennett asked, approaching Maya, Sylar and Peter, who greeted them at the entrance.

"Don't you think the media and police will swarm the building when they see the dead bodies outside?" Matt inquired dryly.

"No time to worry about that," Peter chided. "Come with us."

With Sylar and Maya leading the way, the five entered the depths of the Company. Bennett decided it would be best to take control of the kids most badly brainwashed first, so they passed the 'failures', but when they got to the nursery, they couldn't pass it up.

All of the mothers were awake, and each was cradling an infant in their arms, others holding the hands of toddlers. They appeared to cheer when they saw the five people approaching their room.

"We have to let them out," Maya said, looking at the excited woman, all with tears of joy flowing down their faces.

"Alright," Bennett agreed.

"Matt? Can you ask them to listen to everything I say?"

"Of course," Matt replied. The woman's expressions didn't change, and they still looked perfectly aware when Matt said, "It's done."

"Are you sure?" Bennett asked uncertainly. He had been expecting signs of a trance.

"It wasn't hard to convince them. They already see us as Heroes. They _want_ to do everything you say."

Maya opened the door.

"Come follow me," Bennett commanded. "Silently," he added when the women began sobbing about how grateful they were. Maya smiled. It was heartbreaking and happy, all at the same time. What an odd combination of emotions.

Then, they approached the room with the brainwashed children, the ones with powers. They were still riled up from when Sylar and Maya had seen them last, from the fifteen year olds down to the four year olds.

This time, when Matt mentally told them to listen to Bennett, he was met with great resistance, especially from the older children. Matt focused, his head pounding. Blood dripped from his nose as he tried to complete the command. After several agonizing minutes, he nodded weakly.

"It's done."

Bennett opened the door to the room.

"Follow me," he said.

Unlike the mothers, these kids _did_ look hypnotized. They walked with a zombie-type tread, their eyes glazed over. Only the youngest of them looked semi-aware.

Finally returned to the word marked 'failures'.

"I don't know how you're going to do it Bennett, but you're going to have to convince the powerful kids that they aren't superior, that they're equal to other humans, and that they can't use their powers against other people. But these kids will have to be convinced that they're worth something, and that they _do_ matter."

"I know, it's going to be a long night," Bennett agreed. "Go ahead Matt."

"Wait," Sylar said cutting them off. He opened the door.

"What are you doing?!" Matt half-shouted. But Sylar ignored him, and walked right into the room.

At his entrance, a single boy turned to face him. He looked surprised at first, but that expression faded to resignation. On another bed, a child had begun trembling violently.

"We haven't even gotten to sleep yet!" the girl wailed. "Let us sleep, please!"

Sylar felt his heart breaking.

"It's not an employee, Rain," the boy who was looking at Sylar said. At those words, every child rose from their bed . . . except one.

They all faced Sylar. Some looked curious, some looked fearful, and some simply looked as if they didn't care what happened to them next.

The boy who had spoken, who seemed to be the leader, glanced through the Plexiglas to see the whole lineup of freed children. He smiled sadly.

"We're not empowered," he said sadly to Sylar. "We aren't the ones you're looking for."

"We're here to free everyone," Sylar stated firmly.

"You must have powers, or they would not follow you," the boy said softly. "If you're freeing them, they will inherit the Earth. Unworthy humans like us will die. I do not wish to be freed to meet such a fate."

"You won't be killed if we free you," Sylar said, sadness tingeing his voice. He felt more connected to the children here than he had to anyone else, and he wanted to free them from the mental depression that was the feeling of insignificance.

"Even if I would not be killed," the boy continued, "I would not want to live out there and pretend to be worthy. I couldn't when I knew superior beings were in my midst. Most humans can be content when they don't know. None could accept their lives if the truth of other superior beings were revealed to them. We all want power. We can't all have it."

"I'd like to be free," a small boy piped up from his bed.

"I'm afraid that we're going to free you all, whether you like it or not."

"If you must, take Puppeteer with the empowered. He has an ability, but doesn't want it revealed. But if he's going to be set free . . . he should be among those with power."

At these words, three kids. Two boys and a girl, scrambled to their feet. The girl disappeared into the dark corner of the room and emerged with a wheelchair that had previously been hidden from view. The boys approached the only child who hadn't moved.

"Just so you know," the leader continued, paying no mind to the movement behind him, "the other children you're freeing have numbers, not names. The numbers are tattooed on their right shoulder. But we're not worthy of numbers. We're not even worthy of normal names, because we should have powers, but we don't. So, we gave ourselves names that no other normal person on Earth would have. My name is Intel. Short for Intellect, because it was decided that I am unusually intelligent."

The boy began naming off the occupants of the room.

"That's Rain because she always cries. That's Mute because he only ever says two words a day. But he's mentally competent, so don't be fooled. That's Rocker, because all he does is rock. He's not all there, I think he has a form of autism, but we're not sure, because no one's ever told us. He'll freak if you touch him, so I suggest that you don't.

That's Bunny, because she's the most active of all of us," Intel said, pointing to a two-year-old girl. "We saw an Energizer Bunny commercial once. That's Diamond, because she's fascinated by anything that holds beauty. There's so little beauty here, so it's understandable. That's Trash, because he insists on destroying everything he touches.

"Blood loves it when he's getting beat up. He cuts himself too. Vodka managed to steal a flask of vodka from an employee once, and the rest is history. Opti is short for Optimistic, and he's the most upbeat of us all. That girl is Wolf. She had a crush on the wolfman.

"Doom is constantly predicting the end of the world. Twitch twitches when he's nervous. Comic is the only one of us with a sense of humor, which unfortunately means no one ever laughs at his jokes."

Sylar knew the introduction was just Intel's way of buying time. In the back of the room, the children were loading the boy named Puppeteer into the wheelchair. They finally got him situated when Intel finished.

"And that is Puppeteer. He can't move, and suffers from a severe form of muscle paralysis. Now understand, his heart beats, he can breathe, and he can control his bladder . . . except he occasionally wets the bed . . . he can make sounds, but he can't form words. We've been warned that too much stress or physical exertion can kill him, because his heart can't keep up with it.

"But he's powerful. He basically possesses people. He can live through you. He can move you, make you walk and talk. But the moment he's within you, he also knows every single thing about you. He automatically, within seconds, processes every memory, every thought, every personality quirk. He usually speaks through Rocker, because the poor boy can't speak for himself in a way that we can understand.

"Puppeteer is special. Take care of him."

Two of the kids, Comic and Twitch, wheeled Puppeteer up to Sylar. The boy's eyes were out of focus, and they didn't seem to be pointing in the same direction.

As Sylar looked at the boy, he suddenly found he was unable to move. He ordered himself to do something, but the command wouldn't go through. Instead, against his will, he nodded at Intel.

"Thank you," Sylar heard himself say. "I'll do as you ask." Sylar watched through eyes that were no longer his as the doorway approached him. Sylar's body exited through the door against his mind's will.

_Calm down_, a voice echoed in his head. _It's OK. I won't hurt you. You'll be free to go in seconds._

Sylar knew it was the voice of Puppeteer.

"Noah," Sylar's voice rang out. "Make sure every one of these kids gets an equal chance at life as every other human has the right to do. I want you to make it your top priority, that these kids make it out OK. I want you to do the best 'believe in yourself' speech that you can."

Startled by the seriousness that Sylar had towards the kids, Noah nodded in an equally serious manner.

"I'll do my best."

"No," Sylar corrected. "You'll succeed."

_You have what it takes to be a real hero, _the voice addressed Sylar._ And more importantly . . . you were special before you started killing, even if your mom didn't see it._

The voice was gone, and Sylar was back in control. He wondered briefly whether or not to tell the others about the experience, but decided against it. He didn't want anyone else to know that someone had completely taken over his head.

"Go ahead Matt." Matt quickly told the kids to listen to Bennett as well. Once that was done, everyone was directed to the auditorium size intersection of the hallways. Peter and Sylar went ahead, and telekinetically pushed the bodies lining the walls into the darkness of the hallways, but the bloodstains remained. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to do anything about it.

The kids were then ushered into the room, and they all at down in rows, facing the same direction. Noah stood in front of the crowd, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

Everyone listened attentively, especially Bennett's team, who were all listening for things to tell Bennett to add. Bennett was a perfect motivational speaker: charismatic and somehow believable. You hung onto his every word.

Bennett began by explaining the cruelties of the Company. The murders they committed, the special people they killed. Because even though the empowered children were told they were superior, normal humans sought to control them, and kill them if they deemed it necessary.

Then, he went into a speech directed at the empowered kids. He spoke loudly of the horrible way they were treating their comrades, humans like them with feelings.

Sylar and Maya informed Bennett that they suspected the empowered kids using the normal human kids as target practice. So Bennett included that in his speech. While Noah spoke, Matt probed the kids' minds to see what was sinking in.

It took two hours before everyone was satisfied that the Company's children believed that they had been wrong to think ill of normal humans all of their life. It was by no means perfect, but as long as the idea was reinforced every day, they should stay in that state of mind. Everyone hoped this theory was right. They couldn't afford to release a bunch of kids in the world who wanted to do nothing more than kill off humans. Then all super-powered people would be attacked, and this whole deal with the Company would become a giant mistake.

Then Bennett focused on the mothers and the fifteen human kids (including Puppeteer, as Bennett had not been informed of his special ability). Sylar paid careful attention to every word being said. He wanted to make sure that there were no loopholes in the speech, no opportunity for the kids to go back to their inferiority complexes.

It took an hour for Matt to be convinced that the kids were mentally stable.

The final subject Noah had was that of family and parenting. It was a good thing he thought of it, because all of the others had taken it for granted that these kids had never had a stable family structure, and had to learn about the concept. Noah was sure to explain about foster care, and how eventually, there would be a family that would care for the child for life. Bennett could only pray that the kids fell into the right kind of homes. This speech took another hour.

Matt assessed the children's minds to make sure Noah's words had sunk in. He decided they had.

"Now, let's hope this works," Matt prayed. He released everyone from his mental grip.

"We're free from the evil Company!" A child roared. Matt was relieved to see it was one of the kids with powers. It had worked.

Everyone exploded into loud conversation about how the Company had lead them astray, used them, and mistreated them.

"Ready to meet the media?" Noah asked with a grin.

Sylar glanced down at his blood stained pants and his ripped shirt, and sighed. So much for the clothes. The kids were becoming more and more riled. Sylar was happy to see that Intel was introducing himself to one of the special kids, and they seemed to be having a civil conversation.

"Almost," Sylar answered Bennett. Sylar walked through the crowd, and found the wheelchair containing Puppeteer. Grabbing the handles of the wheelchair, he brought it to the stairs leading to the exit. Careful to keep the chair level, he levitated it off the ground. He wanted to make sure the child wasn't forgotten.

"Let's go."

SSS

Claire was terrified that they wouldn't be able to get the media to the scene on time. She had thought it would be easy to get a cameraman to the scene. But the only person her group could interest in investigating strange happenings at the Ford plant, (They had suggested government conspiracy with Ford being a front), was a lone journalist.

Worse, they gathered he was the sort of journalist who published things fit for the _National Enquirer_. But they _did_ have his interest.

The station for NBC was twenty minutes away from Ford, and everyone seemed busy with some story. A ways away, Claire could make out two people at a desk, reading off papers, with cameras in their faces. A live broadcast.

The single journalist left to investigate the scene. Claire wanted to demonstrate her ability, but Mohinder told her to hold off.

"There's something else we could do. We could call the police to the scene. Then we could inform the news that there are police outside the Ford plant. But we should probably drive back to Ford to make the call, incase they trace it to a location."

"Do we have that kind of time?" Claire asked.

"Probably. It's got to take awhile to undo years of brainwashing. I'm sure we have time."

Claire didn't like the word probably, but Mohinder was the one who drove the car.

So, the three got back in their rented vehicle, and drove all the way back to Ford. Claire hated it. She felt completely helpless as she dreamed up all the ways it could all go wrong. They might not get the media to the scene in time. But at length, they arrived back at the facility.

Mohinder pulled up to the parking lot. And he was horrified by what he saw. From a distance, he could see people shaped figures on the ground nearer the building. He pulled a bit closer. Was that one missing a head?! He swallowed thickly, then whipped out his cell phone, and turned it on. He quickly dialed 911.

"This is 911, please state the nature of your emergency."

"Hello? Hello?" Claire was impressed to hear a note of panic in his voice. She had never taken him for a good actor. Although, the outline of the bodies _was_ pretty alarming . . .

"I-I'm outside the Ford dealership. And there are—I see—oh my God," Mohinder moaned.

"Sir, I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath. What do you see?"

"They're everywhere . . . dead . . . all dead . . ."

"Sir, breathe. Who's all dead?"

"The Ford security!" Mohinder shouted, a shriek in his tone. "I was driving home when I noticed all the lights at Ford were out. I pass by every night and they're NEVER out! I pulled up to the parking lot and . . . and—"

Mohinder took a staggering breath. "I saw them. All dead. Murdered. Not even shot . . . one doesn't have a head attached . . ." At that line, Mohinder seemed to become genuinely ill. His face was going pale.

"Sir, the police are on their way, and an ambulance is too, incase of any survivors. Sir, do you feel comfortable staying in the area, and waiting for the police?"

"I-I- I don't think so . . ." Mohinder stammered. "I . . . I could go several blocks away. Park my car and lock it. When I hear sirens, I'll return to the scene. I-is that OK?"

"That's more than OK, sir. Thank you for your cooperation. We do prefer it though, that you stay on the line until the officers arrive at the scene. "O-ok," Mohinder whispered.

"Is there anybody with you?" The voice asked. "M-my daughter and her friend."

"Are they alright?"

"Shaken, but fine," Mohinder answered.

He heard sirens in the distance. They were almost there.

SSS

Mohinder didn't stay on the line the whole time. He hung up a bit early. The instant the police arrived, he called NBC's news station. They promised to be on their way, and thanked him for the tip. Mohinder was sure they'd bring a camera crew after he mentioned he could see a beheaded corpse and about ten cop cars.

The moment the call was completed, Mohinder drove back to where the police were, and explained that he was the one that put through the call. Mohinder was genuinely surprised that no one else had called before him. He supposed it was fortunate, or the police would have gotten there too soon, while Sylar, Peter, Elle, and Maya had been fighting the Company. That would have been disastrous.

Elle is dead. The thought suddenly came to Mohinder's head. He still couldn't believe it. She had been so full of life . . .

But as the policeman spoke to him, Mohinder had to push all thoughts of Elle aside. Mohinder spoke without much thought, playing the part of a confused, scared, citizen well. Claire and Molly watched him from the car, where they had been ordered to stay, to play the part of scared kids. Claire hated it. The whole climax had been one big disappointment. She hoped she could help out later.

But now Claire was hit with a new fear. The police might be here too _early_. CSIs were taking photos of the corpses and bagging evidence at lightening speed. Claire saw one man already being folded up into a body bag. They were going too fast.

Mohinder however wasn't concerned. He was asking the police questions to see how long they would be there.

"Do you think whoever did this is still in the building?"

"This was done hours ago. The people that did this are long gone."

"It's amazing how a person can be killed, and then be taken away so quickly. It's as if nothing happened."

"It won't be that fast. This sort of thing usually takes several hours."

Then— a van appeared with a huge satellite on its roof. A news crew. A camera crew burst through the sliding van door the instant the vehicle came to a stop. A beautiful reporter took more time getting out of the passenger seat.

The cop Mohinder was talking to swore.

"I swear, how do they find out so quickly?" The cops quickly moved to try to keep the camera crew away, but they were persistent. Mohinder smiled. All was going well.

SSS

This was the scene that greeted the children, new to the outside world. Some gasped in awe. Others cowered in fear.

"Stay together!" Noah ordered, and despite the lack of mind control, the kids pushed closer together as per his instructions. The cops quickly noticed the crowd of people exiting the building, and raised their guns.

"Those are kids!" One of the cops shouted. One of the children suddenly leapt into the air, and hovered twenty feet above the ground, taking in the city.

"It goes on forever!" He happily proclaimed.

"Is he flying?" a cop asked. There was chaos.

SSS

Sylar levitated Puppeteer out of the crowd and into the open. Once he was satisfied that the wheelchair-bound boy wouldn't be trampled, he whispered a heartfelt goodbye. Then, he, Maya, Peter, Matt, and Noah approached the police and camera crew.

"What's going on here?" The newscaster asked. Everyone remembered Sylar saying that he wanted to be seen as a hero, so they let him talk to the camera. The news lady looked alarmed by his state of dishevelment, but said nothing. Sylar began to speak.

"My team and I saved these kids from the grasp of an evil organization called the Company. As you can tell, these kids aren't ordinary," Sylar said, motioning to the flying boy. "They were bred and kept in deplorable conditions while they were experimented on."

"Human experimentation?" The woman asked.

"That's right," Sylar affirmed. Noah quickly took over, explaining to the news and the police about the Company's evil design. Maya gave the police the list of names, the Company locations, and the blueprints that she found. The cop she gave them to ran over to his captain, and they started making phone calls. With his super-hearing, Sylar could tell they were reeling off instructions to contact other police forces and bring all Company bases down.

Many questions were asked, and Sylar admitted to the murders of the guards. The police almost arrested him, but waited for the rest of the story.

"That is remarkable sir," a cop said, "But how can we be sure the flying is not a trick?"

Sylar raised a single eyebrow. He let his hands go orange with radiation, then blue with ice. He froze a patch of grass. He then levitated the cop. The man let out a girlish shriek, and Sylar barely restrained a snigger.

"Proof enough?" He then turned back to the camera.

"Some people are born with these abilities. The Company was taking people like me off the street and manipulating them to their own ends. They were treating us as less than human. Torturing us. Breeding us like we were your common dog. Though we're different, we're still human.

"When I realized the existence of this Company, I knew it had to be stopped. I gathered a few inside men, and with their help, located this horrible breeding ground. We infiltrated it, and freed the prisoners."

The newscaster wasn't satisfied until she had all the gory details of the Company's cruelty. She put it all together in a heart wrenching way, and Sylar knew that the Heroes would be accepted with mostly open arms. These were abused and battered children who had been put through hell. They deserved to be protected.

"What's your name?" The newswoman asked. It was the question Sylar had been waiting for.

"Gabriel Grey," he answered firmly.

"The archangel Gabriel protecting his people, and exposing their tormentors to the wrath of the world!" The newswoman proclaimed. Sylar smiled, and did his best to inject modesty into it.

"I just did what was right."

He then let Noah take over the interview. It would _definitely_ be a long night.

Sylar picked through the crowd and located Peter, who was speaking to a police officer.

"Can I talk to you?" Sylar asked. Peter shrugged, and followed him a distance from all the people, which was rather hard to do. Sylar noticed Maya was following them, but he had no time to shake her off.

"Can you teleport me to the Company base in New York?" Sylar asked quickly. Peter was shocked.

"I think so . . . but why?"

"I need to kill Bob. He's the one responsible for taking my abilities. And now that he's properly miserable and humiliated, it's time for him to die." Rage poured from Sylar's every word. It was the whole reason he had gone on this journey. Revenge. But somehow, he felt that in the process, he had gained more than he bargained for . . .

"Can I come?" Maya asked. Sylar hesitated. He didn't want her with him when he exacted his revenge. It was supposed to be a private moment of happiness. But looking into Maya's eyes, Sylar knew she wouldn't be easily deterred.

"Fine," he sighed, more for the sake of saving time than anything else.

"OK then," Peter said, extending his hand. "Grab on."

Sylar stared at the hand.

"I can't take you anywhere unless you grab on," Peter explained, exasperated. The two quickly grabbed hold.

In a blink of an eye, they were at the base in Heartsdale, New York. Peter vanished back to the scene in Ohio. Sylar strode ahead, not bothering to see if Maya had followed. It was time to end this.

SSS

Maya _was_ following, but she was having an internal dilemma. She had promised herself that she would kill Gabriel when the Company fell. But after all they had been through, she was finding it hard to contemplate.

She tried to think of how he had killed her brother, and how he would go on killing. But her love for him kept interrupting. Maya raged at her own foolish emotions. Why couldn't everything be black and white? Why must there be shades of grey?!

But Maya knew that she had to kill him. As much as Gabriel may have changed, he was still a power hungry killer. And he would go on killing. It would be selfish and sinful of her to let him live because she _loved_ him.

But that future man _had_ said Gabriel had to live to save the world . . . but that was such a ridiculous statement that it barely touched Maya's conscious thoughts. The moment Gabriel killed Bob, she would kill him.

SSS

Sylar quickly prowled through the nearly deserted building. Every once in a while, an employee would run past him, no doubt fleeing from what would happen: the police would come to the building. Sylar paid them no mind. They weren't important. Bob was all that mattered.

Sylar checked room after room with no sign of Bob. Even though there was still no sign of him after the twentieth empty room, he refused to contemplate the possibility of Bob leaving the building. He _couldn't_ have fled. It wouldn't be fair!

But then, at last, he came upon what seemed to be a staff lounge. Bob was turned away from Sylar, sitting in a reclining chair, watching the TV. Already, the reveal of the Company had traveled to New York television.

"Looking for me?" Bob asked, getting to his feet. There was an empty look in his eye. Everything he loved, everything he cared about, was gone.

"You tried to take my abilities," Sylar snarled, stepping forward. "So therefore, I'll try to kill you. Only difference is," Sylar dropped his voice, "I'll succeed."

Bob sighed, hopelessness in his expression.

"The police are at the Company doors," Bob informed Sylar. "I know I can't kill them all. And I wouldn't even if I could. My daughter betrayed me. My Company has fallen. I'm already dead. I have nothing to live for."

Maya shuddered as a malicious grin came over Gabriel's face.

"Then you won't mind if I draw this out," he snickered. Maya couldn't watch. Even though she knew Bob deserved death, Gabriel was going over the top.

Maya didn't watch as Bob's anguished screams filled the room. She didn't watch as she heard bones crack, or as his screams turned to sobs, which turned to muffled cries. She only turned when Bob started making odd mewling sounds, figuring this signified that his death was near.

Maya winced as what was _left_ of Bob struggled to breathe as Gabriel choked the last ounces of life from him. He laughed as Bob faded from the world of the living.

The moment Maya was sure Bob was dead, she let her eyes blacken. She heard Gabriel gasp in shock. Maya tried to reign in the feelings of guilt. Gabriel had to die.

Gabriel turned to face her, black tears pouring from his face.

"Maya," he gasped, falling to the floor. "Please don't make me kill you."

"Even if you did kill me, you would die. I have to reclaim the disease. But if you decide to kill me anyway, I'll die happy, knowing that I stopped you." Maya winced at the words. They were so harsh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I really don't want to kill you."

Gabriel was trying to speak. Though Maya feared she would lose all resolve is she backed off, she did anyway, ever so slightly. She would feel guilty for the rest of her life if she didn't hear him out.

SSS

Sylar felt some of the sickness leave him, and he took the opportunity to talk. He had to trick her into freeing him.

"Maya . . . I admit, I've played with your emotions, messed with you from the beginning. Love was never really on my mind when I talked to you, and if the word did enter my head, I quickly discarded it.

"But the more time I spent with you, the more I enjoyed your company. I figured that I loved the power I had over you, but that wasn't it, at least not entirely.

"As much as I hate to admit it to myself, and especially to you, I love you. When you're around, I feel special. For a moment in time, I feel content, like I don't need more power. As time progressed, I hated to see you hurt. I admired your bravery, I . . ." Sylar choked, black tears still leaking from his eyes.

"I fell in love." The sickness left him completely. Sylar was overjoyed. His plan had worked. Now was the time to kill her. She would only kill him later if he didn't.

But as Sylar stood, and looked into her eyes, he was horrified to find that he couldn't find it within himself to do it. Much to his terror, what he had said . . . it was true. With a mental sigh, he made a compromise with himself. He would tell her how he felt. And if she didn't accept his feelings, he would kill her.

"When you're with me, I'm complete," Sylar said, hating how sappy it sounded, but knowing it was true, and had to be said. "When you're with me, I feel like I belong. I've always felt like an outsider, insignificant. But you make me feel like somebody. Even better, you make me feel like somebody I can be proud of. Not a serial killer with a pseudonym, but as Gabriel. An angel.

"I love the way you walk, I love the way you talk, I love the strength that's been growing within you," Sylar rambled on. "I admire your bravery, your ability to empathize with all others, to see people for who they are and not for their actions.

"But I'm still power hungry. I want your power. I want to kill you for it. But I'd rather not. I'd like to find another way to be special, but it's so hard. It's hard to be a hero . . ."

Sylar looked at her expectantly for some sort of reaction. He knew she cared for him, but he also knew she would only let him live if she thought he would never kill again. And even _he_ wasn't sure if he could keep from killing. Though a large part of him wanted to stop, an unignorable part said to keep going.

Sylar hated putting his fate in Maya's hands, but he could do nothing else. He couldn't kill her.

Maya had real, harmless tears in her eyes.

"You're special without the powers," she said, her voice cracking. "I loved you before I knew you had them. And even though I didn't want to, I loved you even after you tried to kill me. I hated the feeling, because I believed you were unworthy of the feeling. But a part of me knows that a small part of you deserves that love. You worked with your worst enemies and avoided killing them. When I thought I was a freak of nature and couldn't control my ability, you made me feel normal and accepted. I hate you for your past . . . but I can't help but love you for who you are now.

"But I can't let you live if you're going to go on killing."

Sylar's heart sank.

"I can't promise you I won't," Sylar said, wishing for all the world that he could. "It's an addiction."

Sylar then did something he had never done. He reflected on his own state of mind. He turned his thoughts inward, and saw all of his DNA corruption, all of his twisted thoughts and bloodlust, all of his yearning to escape the feeling of insignificance. As he did this, he let out a horrified groan.

"What is it?" Maya asked, frightened.

"I'm broken, so broken, I don't know if it can ever be fixed. I—" Sylar's voice caught. "I need help."

Maya was overwhelmed with sympathy.

"I can provide it."

Not to sure what she was doing, Maya approached the trembling, broken man in front of her and kissed him. It was by far the most passionate kiss they had ever shared, and the most passionate kiss each had had in their lifetimes.

As they collapsed into each other's arms, they let all thoughts of who they were slip away. They forgot that they had wanted to kill each other, and ignored the future problems they knew they were going to face.

They were still entangled when the police entered the room minutes later, and they stayed together despite the new audience. The moment had to last as long as possible, and they couldn't let go just yet. They needed each other. And so, while a very confused police force looked on, Gabriel _Grey_ and Maya Herrera lived in the moment, accepting of each other's faults, finally feeling complete.

SSS

A/N: YES!! IT IS FINISHED!! Well, except for the epilogue. But I figure that can wait. My hands are falling off . . .

Thank you for your patience. And please forgive any mistakes in the past three chapters. I only read them through once.

So, it's finally over. From a one shot to a 16 chapter story (plus future epilogue.) It was fun. I'd like to thank all of my reviewers. You don't know how happy it makes me feel to know that you like my story.

And of course, constructive criticism is also appreciated. How else can I improve?

Thanks for reading!


	17. Epilogue

A/N: Once again, sorry for the wait. I got distracted by Heroes. The new season is filled with Sylar awesomeness. I hope you're still interested in how I planned for this story to end, because it is AU as of the third season. And honestly, I think it has a stronger ending if it ends in the previous chapter. However, I'm certain there are many people who want to know how I imagined the story would pan out into the future. So . . . here's the epilogue.

**Epilogue**

**Present day**

Claire tapped her fingers impatiently. She saw the camera crews, she saw the kids, and yet she was restrained to the car. She could be doing something. She _had_ to do something. She could see Peter and Sylar, and the others emerging from the building and talking to the interviewers. But one thing was plainly obvious. No lives were in danger. There was no logical reason _not_ to leave the car!

"Where are you going?" Molly asked. Claire didn't bother to answer as she walked, quickly but casually, to the huddle of children. She smiled slightly at the one hovering above the crowd. Just like her dad. Well, her biological dad.

"Hey!" A small girl shouted enthusiastically. "There's one!" Claire suddenly found herself the center of attention as a bunch of kids surrounded her. Her first instinct was to panic . . . but that urge went away the moment they all started enthusiastically introducing themselves. Claire couldn't count how many times she gave out her name . . . or how many numbers she heard instead of real names . . .

"So, have you always lived on The Outside?" One of them breathlessly asked. Claire had planned to se if everyone else was alright after greeting a few kids, but she knew she was stuck with them now. And she didn't really mind.

"If by the outside, you mean in a house outside of the Company, then yes."

"Do you have powers?" Claire hesitated briefly, unsure whether her answer would affect the children's attitudes towards her. But she waved the thought aside.

"Yes."

"Cool! Most of us do to, but I'm told most people out here don't. The Outside really _does_ go on forever!"

Another kid piped up. "Where are we going to live now?"

Claire had to answer them honestly.

". . . I don't know." Seeing their worried faces, she quickly interjected, "But I'm sure you'll be taken care of. Even though I'm adopted, I'm not sure of the adoption process myself . . ."

"Adopted?" A kid asked. Of course. They wouldn't be familiar with the concept.

"Most people live with the parents they were born to. They have a mom and a dad. But some parents can't take care of their kids. So, they put them up for adoption. These kids are taken in by other families, who will consider the child their own."

"We don't have moms and dads."

"You will soon. First, you'll probably be put into foster care. That means you'll live in a few homes, with a few different families, until you can find a permanent residence. But don't worry. All of you will stay put eventually."

"So we won't all live together?" Claire looked into the mob of worried and concerned faces. However, mixed in with those emotions was a sort of determination. Claire knew they were scared, but they were also determined to make it 'on the outside'.

"No. But it'll be alright," Claire insisted. They didn't look calmed down by that statement. And Claire couldn't stand their worried faces.

"You know . . ." Claire hesitates, wondering how to word her story in an uplifting way. "People like us . . . out here, we're different from everyone else. And most of you will go to families without powers. You'll probably feel different. Like an outcast. You might fear that everyone will only see your powers, and not the real you." Claire paused.

"I know that feeling. I've lived it. And you know what? I may be different from the people around me. But I think like them. I walk like them. I talk like them. I am human. It just took me a while to realize it. I thought my parents wouldn't accept me when they learned what I could do. But they did. They kept the same rules, they behaved the same way . . . and I realized that though my abilities are a part of me, they do not make me who I am. And then I realized everyone is different and special in their own way.

"So it gets better. I'm happy now. And I'm sure all of you will find happiness too."

There was silence. Claire was thrilled to see more determination had replaced some of the fear.

"What power do you have?" Someone finally asked.

"I can heal. Regenerate."

A small girl suddenly pushed her way forward towards Claire.

"That's kind of like me!" she squealed excitedly.

"What?" Claire asked, surprised. She had thought no one else would have a power like hers. She had worried that even among the special, she would be too unique, too strange, too much of an outcast.

"I'm immune from all disease. The Company is hoping I can cure HIV."

"My skin is impenetrable," a boy input. "You can't pierce it with anything. I get sick a lot though . . ."

Claire was astonished as the children quickly described their elaborate powers.

"Hey, Claire," One of the older children said. "I don't have powers, but for those who do . . . the Company used us for our abilities. I can't be convinced that they were the only ones with that desire. What if we get a family that just wants to use us, instead of raise us?"

Claire was silent. He had made a good point.

"What's your name, again?"

"Intel," the boy said, and Claire was surprised not to hear a number. "Please. I know you're probably not old enough now . . . but in the future . . . can you make sure we've all found decent places to go?"

Claire thought about it briefly, then nodded. "I promise."

SSS

Mohinder was shocked to see Claire standing amongst the crowd, but decided not to do anything about it. Besides, he couldn't very well turn his back to the camera.

"So, Doctor Suresh, how long have you known about these humans with abilities?"

"For maybe a year. My father, Chandra Suresh, worked with blood samples donated to the Human Genome Project. He was able to crack the genetic code that gave abilities, and create a list of people. When I learned that others were not only aware of these people, but abusing them and their rights, I knew something had to be done."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Mohinder spotted something else. Hiro. What was he doing there? . . . Perhaps it was unavoidable that he would be taken from the cameras. Mohinder was disappointed. A part of him had liked the attention.

"Excuse me," Mohinder politely nodded to the interviewer. He approached the Japanese man.

"Hiro?"

"Dr. Suresh," the man nodded. "I saw you on the news, and I knew to come. I have something for you."

Hiro handed Mohinder the completed collar. Mohinder looked at it blankly.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Soon, the government will try to figure out what to do with Sylar. They'll want to know where to put him. Currently, they'll see their only options are to incarcerate him, or put him to death. But this collar, if applied, will ensure that he will never take another ability. I trust that you'll be involved with the care of the Heroes. You'll want to deal with the uproar this news story creates. And sometime soon, I want you to get this collar into the proper hands."

"And which hands are the proper hands?"

"I don't know. But I do know that you'll figure it out." And Hiro disappeared, leaving Mohinder feeling more lost and confused than before. Mohinder shook his head, and looked down first at the collar in his hands, then at Sylar giving an interview, then at the crowd of super humans. And as he observed the frenzy around him, he knew the world would never be the same.

SSS

Micah was bored. After completing the collar, there was nothing to do but watch TV. Micah lazily tapped the channel button on the remote. Sports . . . but basketball. No. _Flip_. Dora the Explorer. Definitely not. _Flip_. Crocodile Hunter. Seen one, you've seen them all. _Flip_.

Micah continued in this manner . . . and then it happened. Micah bolted upright in his chair and leaned forward, completely alert. Fox news was playing. And boy, did they have a story to tell.

Micah watched in fascination as the newscaster described an evil Company, and showed the super powered children, saying they had been abused by the organization. Micah looked on in shock at one of the interviewees. The name Gabriel Grey suddenly appeared in the bottom of the screen, with the hyphenated word "Angel". But Micah knew it to be Sylar, the man who tried to destroy New York City.

He didn't look good. He wore a ripped shirt, and his chest was torn and bloody. When the camera zoomed out, Micah could see his hands were wrapped in makeshift bandages. He was speaking about saving the children. That was ridiculous. Micah's anger at Sylar was wiped away as he realized the magnitude of the situation. Sylar being alive and playing the hero were the least of his concerns. The world knew about super powered people. People like Micah.

Micah's heart started to pound as he thought about it. Though the world was accepting now, with the sob story the news was giving, soon they would turn. There would be those who thought powers were dangerous, or who wanted to abuse the super humans. And people like Micah would have no line of defense.

Micah sat and thought as he watched Mohinder Suresh be interviewed. He remembered meeting the doctor. He had met him the same day he had met Sylar. And the nuclear man called Peter. Micah mused, as the news people went on and on about the abuse of human rights. At one point he caught the phrase, 'there should be human rights for all.'

Though the phrase wasn't particularly catchy, it stuck in his head, and repeated itself like a mantra. Human rights for all . . . human rights for all . . . human rights for all . . . human rights for all . . .

Micah leapt to his feat, barely conscious of his actions.

"Micah?" It was Monica, calling out to him.

"You can help me later!" He yelled back to her, his feet carrying him up the stairs to the family computer.

"Help you with what?" Monica asked, confused. Micah didn't even register the comment. The computer was all that mattered.

Sitting down so hard that the chair nearly toppled over, Micah situated himself in front of the screen. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the screen, and through the connection, accessed the computer's mainframe.

Websites and chat rooms flashed across the screen, and Micah quickly took in their contents. He was looking for discussions about the ongoing news story. The discussions were plentiful. And just as he had feared, not everyone was accepting the super powered humans with open arms.

Micah knew what he needed to do. He needed to protect the other people like him. He would found an organization to protect them. Human Rights for All . . . But he was certain minors weren't allowed to head any organization as big as the one he had in mind, even a non profit one . . .

So, Micah quickly got to work. He has to establish a different identity. He asked the computer if there was a whole town that had been destroyed in a fire. Why? It was easier to pretend to be from a place that no longer had any records. And finally, he found something suitable. A forest fire had traveled to the small town of Wildlife Pause, West Virgina, a little over two years ago. It had been a small town, with a population of little over two hundred people. 75 of them had survived the fire. And because it was so isolated, he doubted any records had survived.

But just to be sure . . . he searched the web for birth certificates form Wildlife Pause . . . and found a few. Also the school in the town had a few online records . . . Thankfully, there weren't enough of either of these to prove that he had never lived in the town. But just to be safe, he put a record of himself into the school. The online birth certificates were all recent enough that he didn't have to make any for fake parents. No one from that generation was online.

Micah quickly set to work creating his digital birth certificate, using his own name. He figured this was safe. After all, even if someone were to notice he shared a name with this new person, they would never be able to connect him to it . . . Micah knew too much about computers for that. How old should he be? 27 sounded right.

Then Micah proceeded to make a driver's license for himself. He figured someone would want official ID eventually. He could email a 'photocopy'. He said he was a Caucasian male (because the town had apparently had an all white population) and that he had brown hair, brown eyes, and other common features. Then, he grabbed a picture of himself, and got to work with photoshop . . . which went really fast because he simply pictured the end result, and the computer achieved it for him. His picture was unrecognizable. As a final touch, he gave it the grainy quality of a photocopy.

Now for a social security number . . . this would be considerably more difficult because it would require hacking a government system . . . not that he wasn't confident that he couldn't cover his tracks.

Creating this false number took significantly longer, as did making the fake card on photoshop. Exhausted, Micah leaned back in the chair. But he was satisfied. His work had undoubtedly been better than that of the world's best hacker. Now, as far as the online world was concerned, there was another Micah Sanders out in the world. And there was no physical evidence to say otherwise.

Once Micah was satisfied, he moved on to the next step. Actually _creating_ the organization. He would have to make a website . . .

After a few short commands, he had a webpage ready to be edited. He spent his first five minutes making the title at the top of the page look impressive. Human Rights for All, the HRA. Once he was finished with that, he made a summary for his organization. He mentioned that he had super powers, and he was concerned that the world would not accept him and others like him. He said it was the goal of the HRA to make sure the new super powered humans were accepted by the rest of society.

After listing a few social issues that he expected to have, and ways they might be resolved, and a heartfelt speech about equality and what America was all about, he decided the main page was finished.

The first branch he created was an About the Founder page, and it included the fake picture of himself, and a fake biography that backed up the fake ID. However, some of the information was true to life. Like how he discovered his ability to talk to technology. He admitted this power was how he got the site up so quickly. But he also listed names of friends he had 'before the fire.' He took names from the school list of Wildlife Pause.

He named his motivations for helping others ("someone had to do it," he said, "and any problem should be stopped before it starts.")

Once he had a decent biography, he moved on to the next section.

'HRA Wants You!' was the title. Micah knew he couldn't do this alone. Within the section, he stated as much, saying it was a group effort. First he asked for volunteers, and listed his email address. Then he asked for someone more specific.

He wanted someone familiar with running a non-profit organization. ("Because frankly, I don't have any knowledge about it.") Micah also listed it would be nice if the person had experience fighting for human rights, or animal rights, or rights of some sort. Someone who was familiar with raising funds to cure cancer, while welcome, might not have enough knowledge.

Micah then listed how people could help. By donating (he explained he did not yet have an account for the organization, so the donations may have to wait for a little while), promoting, and generally making your opinion heard. He also listed several methods of protest to use for when they would have opposition. Because they _would_ have opposition.

Micah then asked for someone to email him who knew how to handle financial funds. Of course, he would do an extensive background check on all integral helpers to make sure the HRA didn't go under. The HRA . . . and official organization . . . and he had created it. Well . . . he wasn't done yet. Checking his work, Micah smiled, satisfied. His website was definitely coming along. Now for a final section . . .

He created a forum, where people could talk about their abilities and problems they had with other people accepting them. Or with problems they had with controlling their power. Which, because he created a forum . . . obviously everyone would need a way to become an online member. Duh. It was plain as day. That would even make it easier for people to affiliate themselves with the organization.

And so, Micah created a way to become an official online member. He also added a special technological program to count the members. Currently (blank) members strong. Depressingly, it said 1. That would be Micah himself. Perhaps he would leave the count out until they became more impressive . . .

With a final once over, Micah decided the website was ready for operation. Now for the easy part. Micah made his sight appear first on all Google or Yahoo searches for Heroes, special, news, groundbreaking, apocalypse, discovery, scientific, power, super and human rights. He would think of other search terms and search engines later. He then tracked down the major news websites. He found articles about the reveal of Heroes . . . and altered every one to include his web address at the bottom.

Micah leaned back to admire his work. He was certain he was forgetting something . . . of course!!! The man on the TV! Doctor Suresh! He had said his father compiled a list for the Human Genome project.

Micah easily found the man's email online, and quickly composed a letter. Within it, he requests that the doctor inform every Hero on his list about his site. He also asked the doctor to join his cause. He said nothing about being previously acquainted with Mohinder. He knew, that though emails could be made untraceable, they could be easily _read_. And he didn't want any incriminating information floating around online. As an afterthought, Micah asked Mohinder to tell him about any super powered people who might influence the public opinion about Heroes in a negative way. Micah figured if he was aware of these people, he could predict their moves, and make sure the public wasn't as drastically affected by their actions.

Micah hit the send button, and was about to close out of his email account, when he noticed he had already gotten an email concerning the HRA. He opened it.

"Dear Mr. Sanders,

I was about to start a website myself, when I noticed it had already been done. Your speed is astonishing sir, though you could have phrased things a bit more clearly. I can help.

I have experience working with the NAACP, and I was a spokesperson at many meetings. I may not have any special ability, but I feel it is my duty to help those who have found themselves perceived in an unfortunate way. I am certain that these Hero-humans, though extraordinary, are indeed human, and thus capable of human thought and emotion, and therefore deserving of equal rights.

I understand that you are looking for someone who can help you. I believe I have all of the necessary experience, and financial assets, to be of adequate assistance. I hope I am not too blunt, but your description of the job for which I'm applying sounds like the description of a cofounder. Someone who edits your work, organizes your strategies and supplies money definitely fulfills the description of cofounder. This is what I wish to be.

If you do not accept me for this job, I assume you have found someone better. However, I still want to be an active part of your organization. Please contact me soon. I wish to know where I stand as soon as possible. You need all the help you can get, because as of right now, you write like a child.

Your new cofounder,

James Jenkins"

Micah stared at the letter. That last line was rather arrogant . . . or maybe not. Maybe, somehow, this man had inferred his age . . . maybe he knew he was the only one who would help a boy who hadn't yet hit puberty run a business . . . maybe he was the only one who Micah could trust to meet in person . . . he did say he had experience . . .

This was easily checked. The man didn't have a single thing going against him, and everything going for him. The only bad things people had to say about him, were about his opinions. Micah found a picture of the man. He was a black man, with steely eyes. He seemed to be slightly bent with age, but somehow impressive, all at once . . .

Micah quickly hit the respond button.

"Dear Mr. Jenkins,

You have the job, sir. I think we should meet in person . . ."

SSS

**Four years in the Future**

Claire hummed happily to herself as she finished setting the table.

"Boys! Dinner!" She called up the stairs of her mansion-like house. Immediately, excited shouts rang out, and the entire ceiling began to shake with the hurried footsteps of four pairs of feet.

"Don't forget Jason and Kyle!" she called again. She heard one of her sons swear, and the footsteps reversed direction.

"Hey, no foul language!" she heard her husband shout. Claire couldn't help but roll her eyes at the complete lack of conviction in his voice. She had yet to convince him that it was better if the children didn't swear. _Men_.

"Hi, honey," Her husband was the first to enter the room. "I would've helped with dinner, but I got distracted playing Rockband with the boys—"

"I understand, Stephen. Video games are addictive. I hope you were letting Jason and Kyle take a turn."

"I tried, but Kyle didn't like the bright colors, and Jason was more than content to watch."

Suddenly, the rest of her kids appeared, and all quickly arranged themselves about the table. Claire smiled as she examined her family. It was nice to see them all together. And to think she hadn't even thought about any of this a few years ago. As a matter of fact, she had thought she would never be happy again . . .

Almost the instant the existence of Heroes was made public knowledge, West had broken up with her. Apparently, the only reason he had loved her was because she was the only person he could relate to. Now, there were hundreds. West had simply decided that there were better woman out there, and he had dumped her.

Claire, needless to say, had been furious. And hurt. And it didn't help that somehow the fact that she had powers had leaked into the school. Whenever someone new asked her out, Claire would be suspicious of their motives. Did they only want to date her because they were fascinated by her power?

She was completely depressed when she met Stephen. He was one of those shy kids who sit quietly and do their work. Someone Claire would normally never look twice at. Except . . . he alone didn't treat Claire like she was some prize, something fascinating to dissect. She never would have talked to him if they hadn't been mad lab partners for Physics class. And she found him to be charming . . . occasionally funny . . . and never once did he inquire about her abilities. He treated her like a normal person. And he had beautiful eyes. And those glasses looked so adorable on him . . .

Claire had been the one to ask him out. When she did, he stared at her in open-mouthed shock. Literally. Claire began to worry he was going to tell her that he was gay or something, but then he admitted that he had always wanted to ask her out, but had been too shy. He had never been on a date before. But what really took the cake, was he admitted to liking her before her powers were revealed. Claire knew then that their relationship would be a good one.

She just hadn't known _how_ good. They got along so well, with so little problems, that just two weeks after they graduated high school, they got married. Her father, (her adoptive one), needless to say, was upset about the pace. But, surprisingly, her mother encouraged her to follow her heart.

And there was one thing both Stephen and Claire held in their hearts besides the love of each other . . . they both loved children. But instead of slowly building up a family, Claire remembered her promise to a boy who called himself Intel. She would make sure that all of the Hero children received good homes. So, with little debate amongst themselves, the new couple decided to adopt.

Claire emailed the HRA about her situation, listing herself as being there on the day the children were set free. The HRA had become intensely involved with the placement of the children, and they often checked up on them, making sure they had good homes. Claire was surprised with the speed the organization had cropped up. James Jenkins was featured on TV more than any other celebrity. Claire mused about the organization, as she requested to foster the most difficult children to place.

Within a few days, she got a response. And she was surprised about the information they had on her. They knew she had been there the day New York threatened to explode. Claire supposed they had the Company files, as the Company might have known that bit of information. The HRA also said they had video confirmation of her greeting the kids on the day they were freed. They said she had adequate experience with Heroes . . . but that she was too young to be a mother to kids only a few years younger than she was. However, they were interested in making a deal. The kids had been so hard to place, they were willing to let her foster one for two weeks.

Those two weeks had been all she needed. The first child she had cared for was a kid who had been formerly called Blood. He had an alarming tendency to casually reach for sharp objects and begin to hurt himself with them. Claire was shocked at his lack of his concern of witnesses. The child was maniacal. Claire and Stephen quickly learned that he loved and enjoyed all pain, not only the pain he could inflict upon himself. He often tried to bite them, and _enjoyed_ being grounded or punished in some way.

But the couple put up with it. They repeatedly used his new name, Santiago, to try to keep him from calling himself Blood. Apparently, the child had picked the name because it shared the first three letters with sangre, the Spanish word for blood. But even if in the child's mind, his new name was a derivative of the old, they used it. They put locks on all of the cupboards, and child proofed the whole house, though the boy was nine. He needed to be kept away from all dangerous objects. They then enrolled him with a psychologist, which HRA paid for.

It was a constant struggle to deal with him. Every day was a chore. Thankfully, Stephen's mom was a child psychologist, and she had helpful tips for them. Tips which they eagerly followed. Claire and Stephen were sure to find something to praise Santiago for, so as not to constantly nag at him. They picked their battles. Instead of screaming at him when he jabbed himself in the arm with the fork, they silently took it away from him, and stopped using silverware. When they caught him trying to break a lock on a cupboard in the dead of night, they didn't punish him. They said,

"I know it's hard to stop honey, but I know you can do it." And they had quietly led him back to his room.

They tried to get him engaged in other activities, and took him to see places, when all of his previous families had been afraid to do so. And because of this treatment, far different from anything Santiago had experienced, he began to like and respect his new parents, even if they did keep him from his favorite hobby.

When the HRA checked up on them, and found that they had not only been able to handle Santiago, but had improved his mental condition, Claire and Stephen were immediately approved to handle more children.

And so, year by year, they would take in another hard to place child. Their second child was #173, renamed Fiyero. The child had the ability to generate fire, like Claire's biological mom. Unlike her mother, he loved to start fires. Thankfully, he wasn't sadistic, and didn't hurt people . . . but he certainly damaged the house. Claire had had to get the HRA to create a fireproof room for the boy, which unfortunately, had to be locked at night. Otherwise the whole place would burn down. And Claire had been thankful for her ability to heal on more than one occasion . . .

They got their second and third child as a pair. Formally named Puppeteer and Rocker, now Jason and Kyle, the HRA wanted them together. Kyle threw fits when he was separated from Jason, and not many other people wanted to have a child who could only speak through possessing someone else. Kyle was immediately given a psychiatrist who specialized in autism. Occasionally, Jason would be asked to interpret. They were only as difficult to take care of as an average autistic kid, and an average paralyzed child could be . . . which was _very_ hard to take care of. It was at this point, that the HRA had sponsored a nanny of sorts to help out with the children.

The final child they had adopted, and the last one they would adopt, was Vlad. Vlad, formally # 144, was quite simply, the embodiment of fear. He named himself Vlad, believing himself to be the Prince of Darkness. You could not look at him without feeling nervous. He knew exactly what to do or say to terrify you, and barring that, he could simply radiate the feeling. The problem was, he couldn't control when he exuded the feeling of fear. So, they had been having online sessions with the best specialist in the subject of power control. The Angel. Gabriel Grey.

Thinking of Gabriel . . .

"Gabriel's being released from confinement in four days," Claire announced. "After dinner, we're all going to go shopping for a present for him. You can all pick something out. We'll go to New York to celebrate with him."

"So we're all going to see him?" Vlad asked, looking at the floor. He always avoided looking at people. And at least for the moment, it was a good thing. Otherwise, Claire would have undoubtedly been unable to control a shudder. The poor child still couldn't control his power . . .

"Yes, we're all going." Claire could see Vlad smile. He had often wanted to meet his mentor in person, but the only time he had ever seen him was by webcam.

"Aren't there musicals in New York?" Fiyero asked excitedly. "Could we see one? Please?"

"We'll see," Claire responded. Fiyero had gotten his name from Wicked. The moment he had discovered what a musical was, he had become fascinated by them, renting every one the library had to offer. He often compulsively sung lyrics, and watched the same movie again and again. As well as being treated for his pyromania, he was treated for his obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

"Do you have to be a certain age to go?" Santiago asked. Now that he was thirteen, he had been granted the access to pg-13 movies . . . as long as they weren't violent. Violence was still a slight concern with Santiago. But since he had gained this privilege, he became convinced you had to be a certain age to do anything on The Outside. The boy happily found examples in when you were allowed to drive, when you were allowed to quit school, when you could vote, when you could drink, etc.

"There are no age limits for travel," Claire sighed. She would have forbidden some of them to come if they had been infants . . . cross-country trips with very small children was not wise. But with Jason being 17, Kyle being 15, Fiyero being 8 and Vlad being 11, they had very little to worry about . . . except perhaps keeping Kyle content.

Claire suddenly found herself reflecting on the difficulty of taking Jason and Kyle. Her husband was responsible for feeding Jason at mealtimes, and assisting him in the bathroom, along with other things. Jason was diagnosed with a severe form of muscle paralysis, though doctors were hopeful that he could improve slightly with therapy. Maybe one day, he would be able to clench his fist, and hold a pencil. He had already made advancements in this field, and had been able to navigate a motorized wheelchair, albeit, somewhat clumsily. The only time the family ever knew what Jason was thinking was when he spoke through Kyle. However, Jason tried to avoid this interaction, because Kyle became stressed if Jason indulged in this behavior too often or for too long.

As for Kyle . . . he was doing as well as any autistic boy could. When Jason controlled him, he was sure to make sure not to make the boy do anything he didn't want to do. He wouldn't make eye contact, and often would have Kyle continue whatever it was he had been doing, whether it be rocking, eating, or walking. But Kyle didn't mind being used so Jason could talk. When Jason was with him, it was the only time when Kyle felt anything like an emotional connection.

Though Kyle still refused to use silverware or allow his food to touch, he would eat on his own. He still would punch someone out if they touched him, which wasn't good as he was strong at 15. But he had managed to learn how to use a few words, and he found a solace in math. He was practically a boy genius. And most importantly, Jason had gathered that Kyle did feel for his family members in the only way he could. And this made Claire happy.

"I can't wait to pick something out for this Gabriel. I'll finally get to met him," her husband enthused. Shaken from her thoughts, Claire smiled slightly. She, and the others with her that night four years ago, had decided never to mention Gabriel's past evil ways. He had a chance for reform. They weren't going to ruin it. He seemed truly honest in his efforts.

"This food tastes great, mom," Santiago complemented. Claire smiled. He was the only child she had that called her mom. But that would soon change . . . Claire expected a baby . . . though her husband already knew, she would wait until she was at Gabriel's party to tell everyone else. Thankfully, she expected all of her children to happily accept the news. Their mental conditions had much improved . . .

SSS

**Four days Later**

Gabriel, "The Angel", drummed his fingers nervously against the table in the waiting room. Maya sat across from him. Today was the day. He would be free. But he was frightened. He hadn't been in the real world for years. And though the world was ready to embrace him, he wasn't sure that he was ready for the world.

He had spent the past four years in one of the retired Company buildings, a building which was now being used by the government to house dangerous Heroes. From Gabriel's understanding, that had been the building's original purpose, but now its occupants were given trials . . . and many were declared to be simply unable to control their powers. This was a new sentence in courts, much like the plea for insanity. The plea was basically a plea that stated that the defendant lacked the ability to control their powers. These people were rehabilitated. Gabriel was one of these people.

He had experienced a quiet trial. While he told the world's eager population all about his abilities, and how he couldn't stand to see others mistreated, and how it wasn't an ability that said who was special, and many other heartfelt speeches, the FBI had discovered his past. The public called him, "The Angel". He was their savior. He would talk to people with uncontrolled powers. He would discover the hidden powers of people who thought they might have them. He aided in the public's understanding of the Heroes phenomena. But the FBI knew him as Sylar. And they wanted to prosecute him for it. But they agreed to do so quietly.

Gabriel had many conversations with his lawyer as what was the best way to go. Should he admit to the crimes? Yes. It would look worse if he lied. There was no doubt they'd prove him as Sylar. Should he admit to all of them? The lawyer had trouble with this one. He eventually decided that he should, incase something came up in the future. He should even mention the murders he hadn't been accused of that he had committed. Better to get it all out there. Why? Wouldn't they just incarcerate him? Plea that it was out of his control. Will that work? Yes. Why? Someone had created a collar that would control him. All he had to prove was that he didn't kill for the fun of it, and that his only motivation was to take power. With the collar, he would be unable to take power, and therefore he would find it pointless to kill.

Gabriel, needless to say had been skeptical. But he did as the lawyer said. He admitted to the accidental murder of his mother. Strangely, there was no longer an online record of that. All newspaper clippings and online stories had been deleted. Though no one would ever prove it, that was because of Micah. Mohinder had contacted Micah, and explained the situation with the collar, and how it could be ensured that Sylar would never take another ability. Micah knew how important Sylar was to the public, and was eager to help. As Mr. Jenkins had told him, Gabriel was what the public viewed as all that was good about the new Heroes. If he was proven to be evil, they would turn against the entire Hero-human race.

Gabriel admitted to murder after murder. First, he listed all of those he had killed for abilities, and then, all those he had killed that had gotten in his way. Obviously, the court had a lot to say about this. They were concerned about the painting in his mother's blood. Surely this showed he lacked remorse? But Gabriel insisted that it was all he could do not to kill himself at that moment. He wanted to see if there was a future for him, so he activated his power. Unfortunately, that meant he was in a hypnotized state, he painted with the only thing available. When he saw the result of his work, still half under the influence of the power, he said he realized how the explosion could aid him to be what his mother wanted: special. He could be president.

Was that still a desire of his? No. How could he justify the murders of those in the way? Gabriel answered that he didn't really see them. All he saw was his target. He didn't consider their lives. Did he regret their deaths? Yes. The deaths of people with powers? Yes. But he didn't regret actually obtaining the power. He wished there had been a different way.

The court, needless to say, wasn't being swayed to sympathize with him. They heard his motivations: he believed he wasn't good enough, and needed to be better. Power became an addiction once he had a taste, and he couldn't stop. He never felt guilty at the time, only when he thought about it later. Did he want to stop now? Yes. Being a Hero in the public's eyes was far more gratifying than being special all by himself. Now he had people to live for, people who would abandon him if he killed again. The collar was presented as a way to keep him from taking powers. Gabriel pleaded both insanity and lack of control.

What finally saved Gabriel was his ability to see how things worked. He pleaded not to be incarcerated in jail, even if found guilty, because he could help the public. Everyone was suddenly aware of those with powers. He could diagnose powers, and help others control them. They needed someone like him to help make sense of everything going on.

Though this ensured the jury was swayed towards accepting the insanity and 'lack of control' pleas and moving him to a reform center, he still had the judge to persuade. But three different psychologists did that, each of which offered their professional opinion on Gabriel. Did they believe he could be reformed? Yes, they did.

The judge had never been one to excuse someone because of their background. But he agreed . . . the world needed Gabriel. He sentenced him to a reform facility until he was declared stable enough to be safely released. It was more than Gabriel could've hoped for. He told the public that he had issues controlling some of his more dangerous powers, and he was locking himself away until he was sure he could handle them. The public liked how self sacrificing he was. The FBI hated how he was getting off scot-free. To tell the truth, Gabriel felt guilty about it too. He felt guilty a lot . . . Maya made sure of it. It wasn't that she drilled him about the murders, but every time he looked at her, he remembered the horror on her face as the list of murders he admitted to grew. And the fact that she still tried to stay with him made him feel even worse.

So, Gabriel did his best to atone for the crimes. The FBI informed all of the families of the victims that the killer had been found through DNA confirmation . . . but that he had been one of the Company employees on the day of the siege. They told them that the killer had sustained serious injuries from Gabriel "The Angel", which in a way was true. Gabriel was working hard to eliminate Sylar from his mind. The FBI informed the families that the killer had been rushed to the hospital. But, having the ego of most serial killers, wanted to have the world know about him before he died. He died only hours after completing the confession due to sever complications. That was the story. The FBI was then able to tell the families more through the killer's fake confession. The FBI was able to inform the family of the killer's 'motive', a desire to be the most special by eliminating others with power, which was slightly true. And . . . since Sylar had recalled every victim, the families could be informed what ability their relation had had. And, if they wanted to hear it, exactly how they had died. It was the most closure Gabriel could give them if he was to reform. He was just upset, because he knew it could never be enough.

So, Gabriel had submitted to the intense therapy program . . . only to discover Matt was one of his therapists . . . of sorts. Matt Parkman did regular psyche analysis of all the patients in the facility . . . which everyone hated. It was a complete invasion of privacy. But it was considered necessary. All Matt ever told the other psychologist was whether the patient had been lying through their teeth about feeling remorse, or wanting to reform. It was vital to prove that a patient's recovery from insanity was genuine, and that they wouldn't go around causing havoc later.

Gabriel's life had been restricted to a small bedroom (with full accommodations and furnishings unlike a prison, for which he was extremely grateful), a courtyard, a computer room, and the visitor's room. It was through the computer room and the visitor's room that Gabriel fulfilled his promise to the court . . . he helped those with abilities. For some people who thought they might have a power, he figured out whether or not it was true. He gave advice on power control to other patients in the facility, and people outside it. He helped other people understand the full extent of their ability. Gabriel realized his original power had been special after all . . . he could help people with it in a way he never could have without it.

And now, four years after the trial had begun, he was ready for release. And he was terrified.

"You'll be fine, Gabriel," Maya assured him.

"You can't know that. I've controlled myself here. I'm closely watched here. But out there . . . killing is addictive, Maya. I know I can't take powers . . . but what if I lose control?"

"The fact that you fear going back to your old ways makes me positive you won't. And besides, you'll have me to watch out for you."

Gabriel smiled slightly, and reached his hand across the table. Maya took it. He was so grateful she had stayed with him. There were times he was certain she would leave. He knew that a part of her hated him. But for some reason, she was always able to forgive him. This made him only love her more. She visited him often, and her confidence in his ability to reform was sometimes the only thing that kept him going.

Three months ago, he had been declared mentally stable. The only reason he wasn't released on the spot was they wanted to attach the collar. The collar had finally been tested, upgraded and perfected to the point where they felt it was safe and effective to use. All that was left was to test it for Gabriel's specific use. Which meant lots of painful spinal taps. While Gabriel waited for the all clear that the collar was ready to be attached, and for the doctors to feel confident that they could perform the surgery successfully (such a surgery had never been attempted before), he contemplated Maya. And he decided that he wanted to marry her once he was free.

So, first he had to beg the warden of the facility to use the funds that had been locked away in his account. Though the money was technically his, the money he had earned from the Heroes while in the facility, the facility controlled it until he got out. The warden, a kind-hearted man, agreed when he heard the cause. But Gabriel couldn't leave to pick out the ring. So, Gabriel asked the warden to give his money to Matt.

What followed was a rather elaborate scheme. Gabriel gained access to the computer room, and accessed a webcam. But that day, what he viewed was the inside of the jewelry store. Matt had convinced the owner to plug a web cam into his office computer, and the jeweler was more than happy to help "The Angel". Thus began the long process of holding up various rings to the camera. After a long three hours, Gabriel finally selected a ring.

Matt delivered the ring during one of his Psych Analysis sessions, and Gabriel proposed to Maya on her next visit. Since it was impossible to hide the box with the ring in it on his person, due to the fact that his clothes were a white prison garb without pockets, Gabriel got permission to break the rules, and he used his power to float the ring behind his back.

And the instant he popped the question, hovering the ring in front of her, she started to cry. Gabriel started to worry that he had gone about it all the wrong way (as if there was a right way within a prison) when he noticed that her sobs were punctuated with the word 'yes', and that she was actually sobbing with _joy_. He knew, even with his ability, it would be impossible to completely understand women.

Still somewhat lost in his thoughts, Gabriel smiled at his fiancé, and she smiled back. They would tell their friends about the engagement at Gabriel's release party. The press would be told later. They knew it would be difficult. There were still things Maya couldn't completely forgive Gabriel for. But both were willing to put forth the effort. They had come to emotionally depend on one another. They loved each other. And it was almost painful waiting for the wedding day to come.

"I still don't like this collar," Gabriel sighed. "What exactly do I tell the public?" Maya examined the silver device around Gabriel's neck. It had finally been attached. Gabriel's neck was red and inflamed, and the bandages had only recently been able to come off. The device was activated. And, to ensure that no complications would be reached by it running out of power, the collar ran off of mechanical energy . . . generated by the blood flowing through Gabriel's veins. It was like an internal windmill system. The government had a place set up to receive a signal from the collar if Gabriel ever did take another ability, and the HRA had finally proclaimed the collar complete.

"Just tell everyone that it was the only way to keep all of your abilities under control."

"And how exactly does it do that? Gabriel prodded.

"Oh, I don't know . . . OH! Isn't on of your powers radioactivity?"

Sylar nodded.

"Just say you often activated it accidentally, and that this collar is connected to your brain, and has been taught to recognize the chemical changes when you start emitting radiation. If you activate that power, the collar will inject you with a drug to calm you down, so the power will stop."

Gabriel was impressed. "It's pretty close to the truth about how it works too. But what if someone wants to know more?"

"Just say that you don't know more. You're not the scientific type, they can't expect you to know everything . . ."

Gabriel laughed. "They kind of do. I know how things work, remember?"

The door popped open. "Mr. Grey?" a guard inquired.

"Yes?"

"This is all of your stuff." The man handed Gabriel the things he had worn when he was taken in. Blue jeans, a black hoodie, and . . . Gabriel drew a sharp breath. The watch. The watch he had taken his inspiration from. _Sylar_.

Gabriel's hand shook ever so slightly as he handled the watch. He wanted to smash it. But he couldn't. That part of him was still there. A scar. And the wound was so deep, a part of him knew it would never go away. He put on the watch.

"Why are you keeping it?" Maya asked surprised.

"I can't get rid of it," Gabriel answered, hoping she'd understand. Maya considered him.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," Gabriel replied. It was an honest answer.

"We'll work on it," Maya decided. Gabriel let out a sigh of relief. She didn't seem mad at him. Gabriel silently vowed to find the strength to destroy the watch.

"Mr. Grey, you can change in the adjoining room. And just to warn you . . . the press is practically breaking our door down."

Gabriel sighed, then laughed slightly. "And thus begins my new life . . ."

**Later that Day**

"Thank God, everybody made it," Mohinder sighed with relief. Coordinating a 'Welcome Back to the Real World' party for Gabriel had been nearly impossible. The original plan had been a surprise party, but that had been decided against. They didn't want anyone injured. Instead, Gabriel was told about the party, but not who would attend.

"It looks great," a voice behind Mohinder assured. Mohinder grinned, and turned to face his girlfriend of one year, Shelby. They were getting married next week.

"I couldn't have done it without you. Streamer hanging is a two person job," Mohinder insisted. She laughed, and approached him, wrapping her arm about his waist.

"But you," she tapped his nose affectionately, "provided the room."

"I kind of wish I hadn't."

"Oh, you'll be fine," Shelby insisted, and she left to check the food table one last time. Mohinder watched her go, still completely blown away that he had been so lucky to find someone like Shelby. He didn't deserve her. But still . . . it hadn't been fun sacrificing the lab.

Isaac's loft, now Mohinder's lab, had been completely redone. The computers and test tubes were all stored in a warehouse to make room for the guests. The large tables that could easily seat 12 were in the center of the room. One held food. The other two were for the guests. Party streamers had been hung from the ceiling, the only sort of decoration Mohinder could find that worked in the room.

Mohinder surveyed the room again, making sure everyone was there. There was Peter, Peter's girlfriend of the week, Matt who was still single and now Molly's official adoptive parent, Molly herself, Noah and Sandra Bennett, Claire Bennett, now Claire Baker, with her husband Stephen, and her five children, Jason, Kyle, Santiago, Fiyero, and Vlad. The only person missing was James Jenkins and the elusive head of the HRA himself, Micah Sanders. But they had promised to come later.

Only Mohinder knew that Micah Sanders was in fact a 16-year-old boy. Everyone else who might have been familiar with the name, assumed it was a different person. Mohinder was surprised Micah would risk coming out, but he was determined to see Gabriel . . .or more accurately, the collar he created being put to good use. He would come later.

And finally . . . the guest of honor arrived.

Everyone let out a cheer. Gabriel smiled and waved, quickly surveying the room. Claire and her husband were there, with her kids. Which meant that Vlad would be there. Gabriel had been eager to meet with Vlad in person, knowing the boy would likely only improve if they could meet face to face, mainly because Gabriel couldn't tell if he was using his power with a couple thousand miles and a computer screen separating them. Gabriel was also pleased to see Puppeteer . . .or Jason, now . . . was there. He felt a touch of admiration towards Claire for not only taking the boy in, but also taking the trouble to get him to New York. It couldn't have been easy . . .

Gabriel shook hands with everyone in the room, saying how flattered he was that they came, explaining that if he was delayed, it had been because of the press, and yes, he was certain the press hadn't followed him there . . .

Vlad was the last in the line of people to shake Gabriel's hand. He approached, his head ducked, and he stuck out his hand. "I'm really glad to meet you," the boy said, and Gabriel was certain that he was glad. But, though Vlad or the rest of the room may not like it, Gabriel wasn't about to let the boy get away with keeping his head ducked. Though it wasn't a therapy session, Gabriel knew this party was one of the few chances he'd have to help the boy. And though he had surprised himself, Gabriel was finding more and more that he _liked_ helping people.

"Please look at me Vlad." Gabriel asked. Immediately, the room seemed to get colder. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, suddenly on edge. Gabriel knew what the problem was. Vlad feared looking at him because he feared what would happen. And his fear was being projected into the room.

"Vlad, please," Gabriel insisted. But Vlad didn't want to look up. Gabriel was the only one who had ever looked at him without fear in his eyes. But now that he could sense his power . . . Vlad knew that would no longer be the case. And he couldn't bear to be feared by everyone.

"Vlad," Gabriel pressed again. Vlad took a deep breath. He had never been able to disobey Gabriel for long. If the man offered advice, or told him to do something, he always did it. And he was always grateful for it in the long run. He just hoped this wouldn't be the exception.

Vlad looked up. It took all of Gabriel's will power not to be outwardly affected. He was immediately struck with the urge to attack the child, to subdue him, his fight or flight response in full force. But he resisted. Gabriel found himself filled with a terrible fear, with no apparent source, that filled his whole being. He could barely think, and what thoughts he had were irrational, and it took all of his strength just to focus.

The rest of the room was in chaos, people running for the bathrooms or cowering under tables as Vlad's power was released. Gabriel barely managed to telekinetically stop Peter from running through the front door— without opening the door first.

"Vlad," he said, and Vlad was impressed to hear an even voice emanating from Gabriel, awestruck at his complete lack of fear, his calm gaze . . .

"Vlad," Gabriel said again, fighting the irrational urge to break down and beg for mercy, "You fear yourself and you fear what's going to happen. And this fear is the fear everyone here is feeling now. You need to calm down." And for the first time, Vlad found this easy to do. Gabriel hadn't feared him. And it was Gabriel's calm even stare that allowed Vlad to focus, slow his breathing, and gradually relax.

The room collectively breathed a sigh of relief as Vlad's power diminished, and Gabriel released Peter, smiling at his patient.

"Well done. Eventually, we'll find away for you to be frightened without activating the power. Do you find the power is triggered accidentally at any other time without the feeling of fear present?"

Vlad thought long and hard. Whenever he activated the power, he simply focused on the feeling of fear. Gabriel already knew that. When he wanted to know what someone feared, he looked deep into their eyes . . . into their soul . . . and the answer came to him. For example, he knew what Gabriel feared most was the feeling of helplessness, and he knew several ways automatically to inspire it . . . when he wanted to lock someone in a nightmare, he had focused on this personal fear and had imagined pushing it into the victim's skull. The one lab tech he had ever done this on was trapped in the terrifying dream until Vlad had imagined pulling the fear back out. The technician had been asleep for six days by that time . . .

So, the uncontrolled part of his power needed the thought of fear. Though seeing what people feared most was uncontrolled, it wasn't a problem. And Vlad had only done the nightmare thing once. But . . . wait . . . there had been that one time . . .

"Well, you already know people automatically fear me when I make eye contact . . . right?"

"I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable right now, yes," Gabriel admitted.

"I can't control that, and I'm not afraid anymore. But . . . in the first family I had, my foster dad tried to ground me for stupid reasons. He slapped me across the face . . . lightly, but still . . . I got so mad . . . and I think that was the most fearful anyone's ever gotten from my power. He . . . jumped out of a second story window . . . and kept running for seven miles before he passed out. When he woke up, he was still terrified. I had to be called out to fix it. It was like I had trapped him in his worst nightmare while he was awake. I hadn't even used the mental imagery that time . . ."

Claire was shocked. It was the first time she had heard that story.

"Do you get angry often?" Gabriel asked.

"No . . . I'm too afraid to become angry now . . ." Vlad blushed, noticing everyone's attention was on him. Gabriel nodded, showing he understood. He turned to Claire.

"I hope you and your family could stay longer. I'd like to spend more time with Vlad. If you need some place specific to stay, I've found myself in the possession of four years worth of wages. I can afford an apartment for you."

"We'll definitely consider it," Claire smiled.

"We got you presents!" a small boy squeaked excitedly. Gabriel struggled to remember his name. He had just heard it once earlier . . . Fiyero?

"I wasn't expecting gifts," Gabriel said shocked.

"It's a party," Mohinder smiled. Gabriel turned to Mohinder and smiled back.

SSS

"Can we do presents now?" Gabriel outright laughed. It was the tenth time Fiyero had asked that question. The more time he spent with Claire's children, the more he felt a new desire: to have a child of his own. It was a thought he had only ever had before Sylar, back when he was normal. Gabriel viewed the return of this thought as a huge step towards recovery. It meant he was less focused on furthering himself. Obviously, he'd have to talk to Maya about it . . .

"I think we can do that now, yes," Gabriel smiled. Everyone had had their share of food, and many stories had been swapped, especially about Elle. No one wanted to forget her contribution to the freedom of the Heroes. They had talked about other things as well; Peter's current girlfriend, Mohinder's upcoming marriage (Gabriel was invited), the progress of Claire's kids, the hopes they had for the future, what Gabriel planned to do with _his_ future . . .

And now it was time to wrap the party up.

"Would you like me to open yours first?" Gabriel asked. Fiyero nodded happily, and ran off to the table where all of the presents had piled up.

When the boy disappeared, everyone started adjusting their seats so they could get a better view of Gabriel as he opened the gifts. Gabriel was amused. It was a new experience to him. He had never had more than two people at his birthday parties and Christmas gatherings . . .

When Fiyero returned with his gift, Gabriel couldn't help but notice that the wrapping paper was singed. He glanced at the boy.

"Sorry," the child said sheepishly. "I got over excited."

Sylar opened the present while Fiyero bounced up and down. When Gabriel got the package open, he found the DVD of Pete's Dragon.

"It's my favorite musical," Fiyero said, suddenly shy. "Claire said you were too old for it, but I said everyone likes to be a kid sometimes, and maybe you'll have a family and they can watch it, or something . . ." the boy trailed off.

"Thank you, Fiyero. I love it." The boy smiled happily, and happily announced he would carry over the next present.

So, Gabriel opened gift after gift, some more interesting from others. Claire gave him a cookbook, at which Gabriel laughed, as he couldn't cook. But the family seemed optimistic, because Stephen gave him a kitchen set, including oven mitts, spatulas, and other utensils. "We figure you're going to need to fill up whatever house you buy. Consider it a housewarming gift."

Vlad gave him a book of poems that claimed to be 'hilarious and uplifting' and Gabriel assured him that he would read it. Santiago had followed in his parents' footsteps, and had gotten Gabriel a silverware set . . . but the boy quickly revealed why he bought it. The knives looked awesome. And indeed, they had an intricate handle design . . .

It was at this point that the door to the room suddenly opened. Expecting to fend off reporters, Gabriel whipped around. But all he saw was a sixteen-year-old boy. The child was tall and lanky, his hair was curly, and his skin was a light brown. However, his eyes were old, and he seemed way beyond his years.

"I hope I'm not to late," the boy said softly.

"Of course not," Mohinder said relieved. "I'm glad you made it Mr. Sanders." Such formality might have seemed odd, but Micah was his boss. And behind him, entered James Jenkins.

"Wait a minute . . ." Gabriel said slowly. "I was told Micah Sanders invented this collar . . . that he runs the HRA . . . are you telling me that Micah Sanders is this boy in front of me? He can't be a day over 16!"

"Actually, I'm three days over sixteen," Micah replied amused. "How's that collar working for you Mr. Grey?"

"It hasn't killed me yet. I suppose you're responsible for the collar?"

"I made it, but a man named Hiro supplied the designs. I understand he stabbed you with a sword?"

"Oh . . . him. Well . . . I suppose without this collar, I wouldn't be allowed out." Micah nodded. "Thank him for me," Gabriel requested.

"I'll be sure that he gets the message." Micah then turned to face the slack jawed faces in the room. They too couldn't believe the boy's age.

"Before you all ask at once, I _am_ the founder of HRA. I can talk to technology, it was easy to create it, despite my age. And I would appreciate it if this kept quiet. I'd have less people working with me if it was common knowledge that I was nothing but a kid." Micah turned to address Gabriel once more.

"Mr. Grey, understand that the HRA is here to help you. Feel free to contact us with any problems you may be experiencing, with the collar or otherwise. But I'd like to let you know. What I'm about to give you is not a gift from the HRA. It's a gift from me."

Micah reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folder. "I hope you don't mind, but it isn't directly for _you_, per say . . . but I think you'll like it nonetheless."

Micah handed Gabriel the file. And Gabriel's mouth opened in shock by what he saw.

"Is this accurate?"

"Yes," Micah said proudly.

"What is it?" Maya asked.

"He's cleared you of all charges!" Gabriel exclaimed.

"What?" Maya asked, shocked.

"Well," Micah said, "I've been staging a war of sorts with the Mexican government. And the Costa Rican government, and the Nicaraguan government, and the government of every other country you passed through on the way to the U.S. It's been very hard to hush the whole thing up. But suddenly, all of your online records disappeared, and your name appeared among others who had legally entered the U.S. with a passport. The other governments were confused, to say the least, but they knew I had done it.

"The only thing left tying you to the murders you committed were the few records on paper . . . and perhaps the wanted posters, though they would never hold in court. After several weeks of arguing, they decided to let you go. Although, they might have been persuaded by all of their case files and criminal records mysteriously appearing and disappearing . . . they realized they had no choice in the matter. And they have no way of proving I was involved, though all of them are certain it was me.

"Blackmail isn't a method I usually approve of, but I wanted to ensure that none of the public's heroes were incarcerated. Our species needs all the help it can get."

Micah nodded to his shocked audience. "Don't worry. I'll reduce my influence when things are more under control for our race. That was atypical behavior for me."

He turned to leave, but turned just as he was about to exit the door.

"Oh, by the way, you'll find papers in there that prove you a U.S. citizen, social security and everything. It's all valid. And Gabriel . . ."

Gabriel stared blankly at the unassuming boy who had done so much. It was a good thing he was on their side, or the world would be in ruin . . . Gabriel could sense it . . .

Micah smiled. "Congratulations on reforming. Please make sure you stay that way. I can't save anybody twice."

The instant Micah and the silent Mr. Jenkins left, Gabriel began to contemplate how much influence Micah might have had in his handling. But Mohinder shook him from his thoughts.

"You should open the rest of your gifts, Gabriel. Congratulations Maya."

"Thank you," Maya said, still in shock, as everyone else applauded her.

Gabriel, though still lost in thought about Micah, opened the rest of the presents.

Kyle had given him a book of some of the most complex math and physics Gabriel had ever seen, including quantum physics as well.

"So you can see how the world works. It's how Kyle sees it," the boy spoke in third person. But then Gabriel remembered: Kyle was autistic. Jason was speaking through him.

Gabriel then opened Jason's present, a big bulky thing, and he found the softest blanket he had ever felt.

"I figured you didn't have anything comfortable in that facility, so I got you this. It's my favorite type of blanket," the boy supplied, and Gabriel could tell why. It was so soft it was almost heartbreaking when Maya removed it from his hands so he could open the next gift. That fabric was so soft it was sinful.

Gabriel opened Matt's gift next . . . or Matt's gag gift, which was a pair of bright pink boxers with the words 'Sexy Back' written in black spiky letters on the rear. If Gabriel had been Sylar, he would've incinerated Matt for the embarrassment. As it was, he could see the joke, and laughed with everyone else.

"You don't like it?" Matt asked innocently. "Well, maybe this will be better."

Matt had given him more clothes, this time of the less obnoxious variety, including dress pants, ties, a pair of jeans, two button up shirts, a sweater, a plain t-shirt, and a hoodie with the name 'The Angel' written on the back. With the exception of the last one, Gabriel was sure he would wear it.

"I figured you didn't have another set of clothes in your possession."

"I didn't. Thank you."

Mohinder gave him towel sets for the house he did not yet have. Peter gave him a tip book, "A Beginner's Guide to Life and Romance," which Gabriel raised his eyebrow at, but Peter was definitely serious with his present. In Gabriel's opinion, if Peter, the guy who apparently couldn't keep a girl for more than a week, had been taking advice from the book, the book was worth nothing at all.

Molly had also picked something out for him. It was a journal, leather-bound, with at least two hundred blank pages. She also gave him a few pens. "I know when I'm stressed, I write stuff down," she explained. "Being back outside and trying not to go back to your old ways . . . it must be stressful. I hope you can use it in some way."

And the final gift came from Noah and Sandra Bennett. Sandra was the one who handed it over. Gabriel opened it. Inside was a scrapbook.

"We got a bunch of pictures from everyone, everyone who was with you when you traveled to Ohio to beat the Company. I've been told that's what reformed you. And, they're your friends. At least you'll always have something to remember them by."

Gabriel, completely fascinated, flipped through the book. There were pictures of Peter, pictures of Mohinder, and even pictures of Elle. Maya, Matt, Noah Bennett, Molly, and Claire were all there. Everyone who had been with him at any point of his journey.

"Thanks . . . it might sound corny, but I really _don't_ know what to say . . ."

"You're welcome," Noah answered. Gabriel grinned.

"And now I have an announcement to make." Gabriel proudly announced standing.

"We're getting married," Maya announced. There was a collective gasp, and then instantly, congratulations were showered down upon their heads. Gabriel couldn't remember when he had last smiled so much.

"You're all invited to the wedding," he informed them. "And Peter, your girlfriend can come too, assuming that you're still attached when the wedding comes."

"When's the wedding?"

"As soon as we can plan it and everybody can make it." Maya said happily.

"And since now seems like the time for good news announcements," Claire added, "I'm going to have a baby." Everybody immediately turned to congratulate her, and Claire disappeared in the mob of her excited adopted sons, her uncle and parents, all of whom were trying to hug her at the same time.

Matt sat back as he watched Gabriel laugh and congratulate Claire. He had a feeling that Maya and Gabriel's marriage would be a long and healthy one. Their minds seemed compatible enough. Suddenly, Shelby turned on music, and Matt laughed as Gabriel and Maya danced to the happy tune. The future was certainly looking up.

**Two weeks later, Tokyo, Japan**

Hiro, for once, was content to do nothing but office work. The world was safe. And he was relieved. He only wished it could stay that way. Danger always seemed to be around the bend . . .

"Hiro!" Ando exclaimed excitedly bursting into Hiro's office. "We have mail!"

Hiro stared at the letter with confusion. The return address was New York. But it couldn't be Micah. When the boy had found Hiro through the Internet, all of their communications had been online.

Hiro ripped open the envelope . . . and his mouth slowly dropped open in shock. No . . . it couldn't be . . . there had only been a .003 percent chance!

But yet there it was, in front of his eyes.

"Hiro Nakamura,

It is my understanding that you are responsible for creating the collar currently about my neck. Thank you. Without it, I wouldn't be able to exist within society.

Because of this, I would rather much like to meet you in a circumstance in which you are not holding a sword. You are therefore cordially invited to the wedding of Gabriel Grey and Maya Herrera, to take place on November 12. It is because of you that this marriage is possible, so I truly hope that you come.

With my gratitude,

Gabriel Grey, "The Angel"

Hiro closed the letter, still unable to understand.

"You owe me a thousand yen!" Ando laughed.

"You know what Ando?" Hiro asked, grinning despite himself. "Shut up."

SSS

THE END!!!!! For real this time! I hope the epilogue lives up to your standards. Technically, I think it's unnecessary for the purpose of the story, and a part of me wanted to end it where it was, but I couldn't resist giving Sylar a happy ending. That, and, to tell you the truth . . .

I'VE NEVER COMPLETED A STORY BEFORE!!! It's been my goal for a really long time to complete a chaptered story, and now I finally have! Thanks for sticking with it! Without the reviews, I could have never done it! Thank you for keeping me motivated!

And now . . . I think I'll take a break from writing for a while and actually read. I haven't read a fanfiction in so long, because I knew if I did, I would become even more sidetracked than I already was. So, until next time, whenever that time might be, this is Black Wolf. Thanks for reading!


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